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Copyright, 1907, 

By THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


Introduction ...... 

The Prologue ...... 

In which Chaucer describeth the Company 
of Canterbury Pilgrims, and telleth how the 
Tales came to be told 

The Knight’s Tale . . • • • 

Palamon and Arcite 

The Priest’s Tale 

The Cock and the Fox 

The Pardoner’s Tale . • . . . 

The Three Rioters 

The Lawyer’s Tale . . . • . 

Constance 

The Wife of Bath’s Tale • • • . 

A Woman’s Wish 

The Friar’s Tale 

The Wicked Summoner 

The Clerk’s Tale 

Patient Griselda 

The Franklin’s Tale • • • • . 

Dorigen 

Chaucer’s Tale 
Gamelyn 

Epilogue ....... 

In which the Gentle Reader is at a Loss to 
know who won the Prize Dinner at the Inn 


vii 

I 

25 

61 

75 

89 

115 

129 

H3 

175 

197 

231 


V 


Untrobuction 


F ive hundred years is a long time to go 
back after stories. It brings us to a far- 
off day when America was not even dis- 
covered or suspected, unless it was by wandering 
bands of Northmen — and what they found they 
kept to themselves ! Indeed we are now going 
back to a period one hundred years before 
Columbus sailed across the ocean in his queer 
little ships. 

The place is England of feudal days, when grim 
castles frowned upon nearly every hill, and when 
knights rode about in complete armor which 
made them look like animated stoves and which 
must have felt dreadfully uncomfortable. 

At that time the English language was a cu» 
rious jumble — at least, we should think so now. 
Words were spelled in as complicated style as 
possible. For instance they spelled the word fish 
fysshe,” and the double s in the middle looked 
like broken-backed /s. In fact very few people 
knew how to spell at all, in those days ; and the 
wise ones who did know, used their own methods 
vii 


viii Introduction 

and tried to represent the word just as it sounded 
to them. 

But two or three things happened about this 
time, which helped crystallize or “ set ” the lan- 
guage. One was the translation of the Bible into 
English ; another was the invention of printing ; 
and a third was the birth of a great poet — the 
greatest man of letters who had yet risen in Eng- 
land. His name was Geoffrey Chaucer, and he 
has been spoken of as the father of the English 
tongue, as well as the first of poets. Chaucer, 
however, came before the printing press ; and his 
poems were preserved in rolled manuscripts writ- 
ten by hand, some of them being finely illumi- 
nated and illustrated. We have reproduced some 
of these quaint old illustrations in the story of 
the “ Prologue ” here given ; and we also show a 
page of manuscript, but you would find it diffi- 
cult reading even if shown full size. 

Beyond the fact that he wrote the “ Canter- 
bury Tales " and a few other works, little is 
known with certainty in regard to Chaucer. 
Even the year of his birth is uncertain. It was 
somewhere between 1 328 and 1 340, and probably 
nearer the latter date. His birthplace is thought 
to be London where his father, John Chaucer, 
was a wine merchant. In 1356 we obtain our 


Introduction 


IX 


first definite news of the future poet. He was 
then a page to the Duchess of Clarence, whose 
husband the Duke was the third son of King 
Edward III. As soon as the boy Chaucer was 
well grown he became a soldier and went with 
the King’s army to make war upon France. This 
was at the end of 1359. But the young soldier 
had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the 
enemy, who held him with other prisoners for 
ransom. The King thought so well of Chaucer’s 
services, that he personally contributed a sum of 
money toward his freedom. 

When Chaucer returned to London he was 
again attached to the royal household, this time 
as valet of the King’s chamber, or personal 
attendant — a position of some honor. He was 
also fortunate in being a chosen comrade of the 
King’s fourth son. Prince John, who later became 
famous in history as John of Gaunt, and who was 
enabled to do Chaucer many favors. 

Meanwhile Chaucer had always been of a 
studious turn of mind, and may have attended 
one of the universities of Oxford or Cambridge. 
It is certain that he was good in foreign tongues 
and esteemed as a scholar. So the King found 
him of great service at court, and also sent him 
abroad upon missions of increasing importance. 


X 


Introduction 


He went in turn to Flanders, to France, and to 
Italy. When the King died, and a new monarch, 
Richard II, was crowned, Chaucer went to 
France to negotiate a marriage for the young 
King with the daughter of the King of France. 
On a visit to Italy it is said that Chaucer met the 
other greatest living poet of his day — Petrarch, 
who occupied the exalted place in Italy which 
Chaucer did in England. In the tale “ Patient 
Griselda,” Chaucer speaks of his indebtedness to 
Petrarch, and it is believed that he heard the tale 
from the Italian poet’s own lips. 

But Chaucer’s activity was not confined to 
foreign embassies. In 1374 he was made Con- 
troller of Customs — that is, of wool, skins, 
and leather. In 1382 his office in the port of 
London was still further increased by adding 
other things such as wine to the list. His official 
duties required him to write the records in his 
own hand, which must have kept him rather 
busy, with his literary writing. In 1386 Chaucer 
was made knight of the shire and elected to Par- 
liament, at which time he gave up his position in 
the Customs. During the next few years he 
held various official positions, probably aided by 
his friend and benefactor John of Gaunt. Finally 
when this friend’s son was crowned king, as 


Introduction 


XI 


Henry IV, in 1 399, Chaucer received a pension 
for his long and faithful services. It is believed 
that the old poet needed it, as he had lost his 
most lucrative positions. With the pension 
money he leased a house and garden near West- 
minster, but he did not long enjoy his well earned 
repose. The next year he died, and was buried 
in Westminster Abbey — the first of English poets 
to find a resting place there. The inscription 
there gives the date of his death as October 25^ 
1400. 

But Chaucer's fame has remained steadfast 
through all these centuries, not because of any 
public offices he held, or from any friendship 
with King or Prince. Plis name now towers 
above them, and what he did will be remembered 
for other centuries to come, when they will be 
forgotten. His fame is secure because he was a 
poet and a creator of the English tongue. He 
found the language a thicket of conflicting dia- 
lects. He left it firmly rooted in one strong 
graceful tree which has grown into our modern 
speech — a sturdy oak whose branches extend 
toward every point of the compass and bid fair to 
shelter almost every nation of the earth. 

Chaucer’s chief work, from which the present 
stories are drawn, was his Canterbury Tales.” 


Introduction 


xii 

Their writing occupied all his spare time during the 
later years of his life, and indeed he left the great 
task unfinished. The design of these ‘‘ Tales ” is 
set forth clearly in his own Prologue, which we 
have tried to give faithfully in this prose version. 
Chaucer imagines a group of pilgrims setting 
forth for the cathedral at Canterbury, there to do 
penance at the shrine of the church martyr, 
Thomas a Becket. Such pilgrimages were very 
common in those days, especially in the spring- 
time, when the flowers and green grass invited 
people to spend as much time as possible in the 
glad out-of-doors. Chaucer himself was on this 
pilgrimage — he says — and stopped overnight on 
the way, at the Tabard Inn, That same evening 
the other pilgrims arrived by twos and threes, 
and the observant scholar describes them for us in 
close detail. There were twenty-nine in all, rep- 
resenting nearly every trade and profession of 
that day from the highest to the lowest. It was 
a motley throng. The soldiery were represented 
by a knight belonging to the noble class, his son 
the squire, and his follower the yeoman ; the 
church, by an abbot, a friar, a parson, a prioress, 
a nun, three priests, a pardoner, and asummoner; 
the professions, by a scholar, a clerk of Oxford, a 
doctor, and a lawyer. Then there were also a 



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Introduction 


xiii 

Franklin or landowner, a haberdasher, a carpen- 
ter, a weaver, a dyer, an upholsterer, a cook, a 
plowman, a sailor, a reeve or sheriff, and a man- 
ciple or steward. 

Chaucer says that these people decided to ride 
on to Canterbury together for the sake of safety 
and companionship ; and that the landlord of the 
Tabard Inn proposed that each should take his 
turn in telling stories by the way. Of course it 
is all mak^-believe, and the stories are really by 
Chaucer himself. Yet he succeeds wonderfully 
well in putting into the mouths of these various 
people just the sort of story you would naturally 
expect of them. The knight begins with a fine 
high-flown tale of chivalry and battle; while the 
tradesmen, when it comes their turn, tell tales 
of coarse broad humor and every-day life. The 
most successful story-teller — says Chaucer — was 
to have been given a dinner at the expense of 
all the others, when they rode back from Canter- 
bury town. But unfortunately the journey was 
never completed, as the great mind which was 
creating these scenes was stilled by death before 
he could set them all down upon paper for your 
pleasure and mine. Enough was done, however, 
to serve as a model to story-tellers for all time. 
The figures seem drawn from life, the action never 


xiv Introduction 

drags, the speech is always sprightly and vigor- 
ous. 

The best of these “ Canterbury Tales ” have 
been chosen for the present book. They are the 
ones which children will most appreciate and en- 
joy ; and their perusal, we hope, will lead to a 
personal study of the quaint old original text, in 
the later *• grown-up " years. We have tried to 
give a faithful prose rendering of the rhymed 
lines of the original, and in numerous places that 
original crops out word for word. In other 
places where the text has been expanded or con- 
tracted slightly, it has remained faithful to the 
Canterbury spirit. 

With these few words of explanation, we will 
now turn with you to the book itself ; or as the ge- 
nial old poet would have put it, we will mount our 
steeds with the rest of the company and ride on 
to Canterbury, listening and laughing by the road 
to the tales that shall be told. 

J. W. M. 

New York City, 

May, 1907. ^ 


tTbe prologue 

In Which Chaucer Describeth the 
Company of Canterbury Pilgrims 
and Telleth How the Tales Came 
to be Told 


Here Beginneth the Prologue to the 
Canterbury Tales 

W HEN April has come with his sweetest 
showers to pierce the hard heart of 
March and breathe new life into 
every living thing all nature rejoices. The tender 
grass once more clothes the hillside, the little 
birds make melody, and men are stirred to go 
forth upon long journeys. Pilgrims hasten to dis- 
tant lands to visit the shrines of far-off saints, 
while other devout folk in England wend their 
way to Canterbury town to kneel before the 
blessed martyr’s tomb.^ 

It befel that one day in spring as I, Chaucer, 
was resting at the Tabard Inn in Southwark, 
ready to go upon my devout pilgrimage to Can- 
terbury, a company of pilgrims upon the same 
quest arrived at nightfall. There were nine-and- 
twenty of them — various folk who had chanced 
to fall in one with another. The Inn’s quarters 
were roomy so that every one found a place ; 

• Thomas h Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, was slain by 
servants of King Henry II, in 1170. He was made a saint by 
the Pope, and pilgrimages were instituted to his tomb. 

3 


4 


Stories From Chaucer 


and shortly I had made friends with them all and 
was counted one of their company. We agreed 
to rise up early the next day and pursue our 
journey together. 

But while I have time and space I think it well 
to tell you something about this company. And 
I will begin with 



A Knight there was, a very worthy man, 


Prologue ^ 

from the time that he had first begun to ride 
about. He loved chivalry and truth, freedom 
and courtesy. He had borne with honor many 
high commands. He had been in Alexandria 
when it was won ; had served with renown in 
Prussia, Russia, Turkey and by the Great Sea; 
had fought in fifteen mortal battles, and in the 
lists of tourney for our faith had three times slain 
a foe. And though he was worthy he was also 
wise and modest. He never spoke evil, but was 
a very perfect, gentle knight. As for his array, 
his horse was good without being showy, and he 
wore a rough under-coat stained by his metal 
armor, for he had but lately arrived from a long 
voyage. 

With him was his son a Squire, a lively boy 
with curly locks who was about twenty. He was 
of even stature and wonderfully graceful and 
strong. He had followed his father in knightly 
deeds of war in Picardy, Flanders, and Artois, 
and borne himself well, hoping thus to win his 
lady’s grace. He was richly embroidered, with 
short coat and wide sleeves. Singing he was, or 
flute-playing all day long, and he could make 
songs or ballads and recite, joust, dance, draw 
pictures or write ; while he became his horse and 
well could ride. His behavior was also good, for 


6 


Stories From Chaucer 



The Squire 


he was courteous and serviceable, and carved the 
meat for his father at the table. 

The only servant he had was a Yeoman who 
was clad in a coat and hood of green. He car- 
ried a sheaf of bright arrows at his belt, and in 
his hand a mighty bow, while by his side hung a 
sword and buckler. A hard-headed fellow he 


Prologue 


7 



The Yeoman 


looked, with brown visage as though well versed 
in woodcraft. 

There was also a nun, a Prioress who was 
called Madam Eglantine. She had shy simple 
manners, sang the divine service full well, and 
spoke French fair and fluently. At table her 
manners were of the daintiest, and she was 
amiable though at mighty pains to have a courtly 


8 


Stories From Chaucer 



The Prioress 


manner. While as for her conscience, she was 
so charitable and piteous she would weep if she 
did but see a mouse caught in a trap, or a 
dog beaten by a man. Her nose was straight, 
her eyes were gray as glass, and her mouth was 
quite small with soft red lips. Besides she had a 
good forehead and she was of goodly height. 
Her cloak was trimmed, and she bore upon her 


Prologue 9 

arm a small rosary of corals set with green, and 
thereon hung a brooch of gold on which was 
written Amor vincit omnia whose meaning is, 
Love conquers all things. 

With the Prioress were a nun and three priests. 



The Monk 


A Monk there was — a man bound to ex- 
cel others and who loved hunting. He was 
fit to be an abbot, and he was also a good 


lo Stories From Chaucer 

judge of horses. He cared little what was 
said about him and he spared no cost to keep the 
finest grayhounds. I saw his sleeves edged with 
fine lace ; his hood was fastened under his chin 
with a curious gold pin shaped like a love-knot. 
His head was bald and shone like glass and there 
was much flesh on his bones. 



The Friar 


And there was a Friar, a riotous merry fellow 


11 


Prologue 

enough, glib of tongue, yet solemn in his office. 
He was well-known and liked, for he heard con- 
fessions and gave pleasant absolutions. And his 
penances were light when people made it worth 
his while. He carried a pocket full of pretty 
knives and trinkets to give to people, and he 
could sing well and play on the guitar. He 
courted the folk who could give the best dinners, 
and was hard to turn away when he came asking 
alms. He was well clad and round. He lisped 
somewhat to make his English sweet upon his 
tongue, and when he played and sang, his eyes 
twinkled like stars on a frosty night. 

A Clerk there was — a scholar from Oxford 
town who had long applied his heart unto learn- 
ing. His horse was skinny as a rake, and Fll 
wager that he himself was none too fat ! He had 
a sober hollow look which went well with his 
threadbare cloak, for he had not tried to get a 
scholar’s pension, and did not yet have an office. 
He would rather have, stacked up at the head of 
his bed, a score of books on philosophy, bound 
in black and red, than rich robes or easy living. 
So he had very little money, arid all that he did 
get he spent on books of learning. No word he 
spake for which there was no need, but what he 
said was short and quick and to the point, yet 


12 


Stories From Chaucer 



The Clerk 


with all dignity and soundness. True worth and 
goodness lay in his speech ; glad would he learn 
and gladly teach. 

Likewise there was a Man-of-Law, who was 
wary and wise. He also was a man full rich in 
excellence, and discreet and held in great esteem. 
He was often seen in the court rooms, for he was 
a skilful counselor. So he won many fees, both 



The Man of Law 


large and small. He acted as agent for many 
estates. Indeed there was nowhere a busier man, 
and yet he seemed busier than he was. He had 
all the law and evidence down pat from the time 
of King William, and when he wrote out a thing, 
no man could get around it. And every statute 
he could say off by rote. But despite the fact 


H 


Stories From Chaucer 


that he was a famous lawyer, he rode but a 
homely mount, and wore a medley coat girt 
about with a belt of silk set with little bars. I 
cannot tell farther of his array. 



A Franklin was in his company. His beard 
was white, his complexion ruddy. Well did he 


Prologue 15 

love his wine. His house was never without 
baked meat both fish and flesh, and that so plen- 
teous that one would think it snowed meat and 
drink. Woe to his cook if but his sauce lacked 
its sharp flavor ! His table stood ready covered 
all day long, for often he was knight of the shire 
and must needs keep open house. A dagger and 
hawk-net hung at his girdle. 

And there were also in the company a Mer- 
chant with forked beard and motley raiment, a 
Haberdasher, a Carpenter, a Weaver, a Dyer, 
a Tapestry-Maker, all clad in their proper 
livery, a Cook, a Shipman, ^ Physician and a 
Wife of Bath. 

But I must tell you more about the Wife of 
Bath.i I am sorry to say she was somewhat _ 
deaf, but she was so expert at weaving cloth that 
no one could equal her. She allowed no other 
woman to outdo her in church worship, and she 
had been on pilgrimages to Rome as well as 
traveled in many lands. Fair was her face and 
ruddy. The worthy woman had buried five 
husbands in her time. That she was well-to-do 
might be seen by her showy dress. Her hat was 
as broad as a buckler or target. She sat easily 


• Meaning a housewife hailing from that city. 


i6 


Stories From Chaucer 



The Wife of Bath 


upon her ambling steed and could laugh and 
jibe in good fellowship with the best of us. 

A good man there was of religion — a Parson 
poor in worldly goods but rich in holy thought 
and work. He was also a learned man and given 
to preaching the gospel truly. He was cheerful 
and diligent and patient in adversity. Wide was 


Prologue 


17 



The Parson 


his parish with houses far asunder, but never did 
he fail through rain or thunder to visit all who 
were sick or in trouble. He followed neither 
pomp nor show, but only his sound conscience^ 
preaching the law of Christ and his apostles and, 
better still, following it himself. 

Then there was the Parson’s brother, a Plow- 
man who worked hard in the fields but who lived 


l8 Stories From Chaucer 

in peace and perfect charity with his fellow man. 
He wore a tabard and rode on a mare. 

There were also a Miller, a Reeve, a Sum- 
MONER, a Pardoner, a Manciple, and myself 
completing the party. 



The Miller 


The Miller was a stout carl, big of brawn 
and bone, as he had proved in many a wrestling 


19 


Prologue 

match. He was stout and thick-set, and there was 
no door in the town that he could not burst in 
with his burly shoulders. His beard was red like 
a fox, and on the tip of his nose was a wart with 
bristly red hairs in it. He could grind corn well 
enough, but he often kept more than his share of 
the meal. He wore a sword and buckler, and 
carried a bagpipe with which he piped us merrily 
out of the town. 

The Reeve, or bailiff, was a thin, fiery fellow 
with short beard and hair cropped about the ears. 
His legs were long and lean like walking sticks 
and you could see no calves at all. But he was 
a just man, and never came up short in accounts, 
when he managed estates for other people. 

The SuMMONER was an ugly fellow with an 
ugly trade ; for it was his business to summon 
people to appear before the church courts, and it 
was whispered that he blackmailed them right 
and left. He liked strong dishes flavored with 
garlic and onions, and when he drank too much 
sour wine he would jabber nothing but Latin. 
He had picked up a few legal terms, but knew 
nothing about them. He cut a queer figure as 
he rode along, for he wore on his head a garland 
as big as an ivy-bush, and carried instead of a 
buckler a big round cake. 


20 


Storks From Chaucer 



The Pardoner 


In company with the Summoner rode his 
friend the Pardoner, who was a priest that sold 
pardons from Rome. Full loud he sang such 
love-ditties as “ Come hither, love, to me ! ” and 
the Summoner would growl out an accompani- 
ment in a stiff bass voice. His hair was as yel- 
low as beeswax and it hung down his back in 
straggling locks. His face was beardless and his 


21 


Prologue 

voice was gentle like the bleating of a goat, but 
he was right crafty in his business. He carried 
a bag of bones, relics of saints, about which he 
told the most wonderful tales, and thus sold 
them to the poor people for a goodly sum of 
money. 

The Manciple was a well-groomed fellow who 
acted as steward and buyer for the lawyers of 
London. He knew so well how to buy pro- 
visions at the best market price, that he had 
more than thirty customers on his list. No 
matter how shrewd they might be in law, he 
could beat them at a trade every time. 

Lastly there was myself, Dan Chaucer, Esquire, 
who have set me to describe this company. But 
I will not speak of mine own form and feature 
for very modesty’s sake. My likeness is set forth 
here with the others, so that the gentle reader 
may judge for himself.^ 

Now I have told you in brief the array and 
number of this company of pilgrims who were 
assembled at Tabard Inn, and so it is time to 
tell you what happened with us that night, and 
afterward of the journey itself. 

But first I pray you out of your courtesy not 

' The genial Chaucer will doubtless pardon us for putting 
words into his mouth which he did not utter I 


22 


Stories From Chaucer 



Chaucer 

to charge me with false speech if I set down in 
full all words and actions ; for this you know as 


Prologue 23 

well as I, that whoso tries to tell a tale after a 
man must only rehearse it the best way he can. 
He must tell it faithfully, sparing no one, not 
even his brother. You must also forgive me if I 
have not set folk in their rank and dignity in this 
tale. I am a plain man myself and can only use 
plain words. 

Our Host made us right welcome and set great 
cheer before us at the supper-table. He was a 
big man bold of speech, but wise and shrewd. 
And he was also a right merry man, keeping the 
company lively with his witty jests. When we 
had supped and settled our accounts he said to 
us all : 

** Now, lordings, you are truly right welcome ; 
for by my troth, if I shall not lie, I never have 
seen so large a company at once inside my 
tavern before, this year. Fd gladly make you 
mirth if I knew how ; and of a pleasant game 
Fve just bethought, to cheer your way — and cost 
you naught! You go to Canterbury. God 
speed you, and if you will abide by my judgment 
on the way, hold up your hands 1 " 

Without more ado we held them up and begged 
our Host to say on. 

“ Well, masters,’' quoth he, “ I have decided 
that each of you shall tell the rest of us four tales 


24 Stories From Chaucer 

— two on the way to Canterbury and two on the 
way back. They will shorten the journey. And 
whichever tells the best story shall have a supper 
at this inn at the expense of the others. And to 
add to the sport, I myself will gladly ride with 
you at my own expense to be both guide and 
judge ; and whoever gainsays my judgment shall 
pay for all we spend by the way. Now tell me 
if you agree to this, and I shall get ready in time 
to start.” 

We were all right glad of this plan and told 
him as much ; and so, early next morning, our 
clever Host gathered us together like a hen 
gathering her chicks, and we rode away to Saint 
Thomas’s Well. Here he reined his horse and 
said that we must draw lots to determine who 
should tell the first story. And the lot fell to the 
Knight, much to the delight of everybody else. 
As for that good man he put a pleasant face on 
it, saying : Since I shall begin the game, why, 

forsooth, welcome be the lot ! Come, let us ride 
forward while I begin my tale.” 

Here endeth the Prologue of this book ; and 
here beginneth the first tale which is the 
Knight’s Tale. 


?Cbc Ikniobt’s tCale 

PALAMON AND ARCITE 


Palamon and Arcite 


O NCE upon a time, as old stories tell us^ 
there was a duke named Theseus, the 
lord and governor of Athens ; and in his 
day he was such a conqueror that there was none 
greater under the sun. Full many a rich country 
had he won by his wisdom and prowess. He con- 
quered the land of the Amazons, once called 
Scythia, and wedded its queen Hippolyta, bring- 
ing her back home with much pomp and great 
solemnity ; and with her came her younger sister 
Emily. And thus with victory and with melody 
this noble duke to Athens rode with all his host. 

And certainly if it were not too long to hear, I 
would tell you fully of his conquests and battles, 
but the rest of the tale is long enough and I can 
only use my share of time. Then let the others 
tell their story and see who wins the landlord’s 
supper ! 

As Duke Theseus was on his way home with 
his bride, he perceived by the roadside a company 
of ladies all clad in black raiment who wept and 
wailed and made great outcry. 

27 


28 


Stories From Chaucer 


“ What folk are ye,” quoth Theseus sternly, 
“ that ye should disturb my home-coming with 
your cries ? And why this black attire when ye 
should be doing me honor ? ” 

Then said the oldest of them : “ Lord, to whom 
fortune hath given victory, we do not grudge your 
glory and honor, but we come to beseech your 
mercy and aid. There is not one of us who was 
not once a queen or a duchess, but now by a turn 
of the fickle wheel of fate are we all beggars. 
Myself was the wife of King Capaneus of Thebes ; 
and all of us who make this lamentation lost each 
her husband on the fatal day when that besieged 
city fell. And now Creon who is the new King 
of Thebes has piled all the dead bodies in a heap 
and will not suffer us either to burn or to bury 
them.” 

And with these words the ladies wept and cried 
more grievously then ever: “ Have pity on us 
wretched ones, and let our sorrow sink into your 
heart ! ” 

The tender-hearted duke dismounted from his 
horse, full of profound pity for the ladies. He 
lifted them all from the ground and comforted 
them and swore a great oath that, as he was a true 
knight, he would deal forcibly with this cruel 
tyrant Creon. And making good his word he 


Palamon and Arcite 


29 

turned to right about, unfurled his banner and 
rode with all his army toward Thebes — sending 
his queen Hippolyta and her sister Emily on to 
Athens to await his coming. 

The duke’s white banner bore the red statue of 
Mars, God of War, upon it ; and by his banner 
fluttered his pennon. Thus in the flower of 
chivalry rode the conqueror till he came to 
Thebes. 

To make matters short, the duke fought a great 
battle with the King of Thebes and slew him and 
many a knight upon the field and routed his whole 
army. Afterward he took the city by assault 
and tore down its walls ; and the sorrowing ladies 
came and received the bones of their dead 
husbands for honorable care. 

When Theseus had slain Creon and won the 
city he remained all night on the field of battle ; 
and in the pillage that followed it so befel that 
two young knights were found who, though 
wounded sorely, were yet alive. Side by side they 
lay in their rich armor which proclaimed them 
to be of the blood royal — cousins and the sons 
of sisters. Their names were Palamon and 
Arcite. 

On account of their rank the two young knights 
were carried to Theseus’ tent ; and he, disdaining 


30 Stories From Chaucer 

any ransom, sent them to Athens to lifelong im- 
prisonment. 

Then rode Theseus home, crowned with laurel 
as a conqueror, and lived in joy and honor all his 
life. But in a strong tower Palamon and Arcite 
were shut up and left to anguish and woe. 

Thus passed year by year and day by day, 

Till it fell once upon a morn in May 
That Emily, far fairer to be seen 
Than is the lily on his stalk of green, 

And fresher than the May with flowers new — 

For with the rose’s color strove her hue, 

I know not which the fairer of the two — 

Ere it was day, as washer wont to do. 

She had arisen with the early light ; 

For May will have no sluggard of the night. 

This she remembered and in fresh array 
Had come to do her honor to the May. 

Her yellow hair was braided in a tress 
Behind her back — a yard in length, I guess ; 

And in the garden as the sun uprose 
She wandered up and down where as she phose. 
She gathered flowers partly white and red 
To make a witching garland for her head, 

And as an angel heavenly she sang. 

Now the great tower, in which the young 
knights Palamon and Arcite were imprisoned, 
stood hard by the wall of the garden. And 
Palamon, by leave of his jailer, had also risen 


Palamon and Arcite 31 

early upon this bright May morning , and was 
roaming at will about an upper chamber whence 
he could see all the noble city and likewise the 
garden in which Emily was walking. This sor- 
rowful prisoner was pacing back and forth in the 
great room bemoaning his sad case and wishing 
he had never been born ; when it chanced that 
through the square barred window he cast his eye 
upon the princess. 

“ Ah ! ” he cried, starting backward as though 
stricken to the heart. 

So sudden was his outcry that Arcite sprang 
up asking, “ Dear cousin, what ails you? You 
are quite pale and deathly. We must learn to be 
patient and endure this prison life.” 

Palamon answered, Cousin, it is not the prison 
which made me cry out. But I was smitten just 
now through the eye right to the heart. The 
fairness of that lady that I see roaming yonder in 
the garden is the cause of my outcry. I know 
not whether she be woman or goddess, but I 
think it must be Venus herself! ” 

And with that word Arcite began to look at 
the lady Emily ; and the sight of her fairness hurt 
him so sorely that he sighed deeply, saying: 
** Her fresh beauty slays me suddenly, and if I 
find no favor in her eyes I am but dead.” 


Stories From Chaucer 


32 

When Palamon heard this he said sternly, 
“ Say you that in jest or earnest ? " 

Nay,” quoth Arcite, “ in earnest by my faith ! 
I am in no mood to play.” 

Then Palamon began to knit his brows. ** It 
were no great honor,” quoth he, “ for you to 
prove false and traitor to me who am your cousin 
and brother, sworn as we both are to stand to- 
gether till death. But now you would falsely try 
to take from me this lady whom I love and serve 
and ever shall till my heart break. Now, certes, 
this you shall not do. I loved her first and took 
you into my secret, and you are bound in 
knightly honor to help me with my suit.” 

But Arcite answered proudly, You are rather 
false than I, for I loved her truly first. You 
did not know whether she was a woman or a 
goddess, and therefore your affection was a sort 
of religious feeling. But my love is real and I 
told my cousin and sworn brother of it at once. 
But even if you had loved her first, what matters 
it ? A man must love because he can’t help it, 
and not because he wills it. Moreover it is not 
likely that you will obtain her grace any more 
than I, for here we are, lifelong prisoners denied 
all ransom. And so, my brother, each man for 
himself, say I ! ” 


Palamon and Arcite 


33 

But his cousin was unyielding, and long and 
bitter was the quarrel between them for the love 
of the lady they had barely seen and could never 
hope to meet. 

But to go on with my story : There was a 
great duke named Perotheus who was a close 
friend> and brother-in-arms to Theseus. They 
loved each other dearly, so that it seemed there 
was nothing the one would not do for the other. 
Now Duke Perotheus had known Arcite for 
years and liked him well ; and he begged Theseus 
to let the young knight out of prison. Theseus 
agreed to do this, but .only on condition that 
Arcite leave Athens. Should he ever be found 
there he was to lose his head. 

So Arcite recovered his freedom, but he did 
not rejoice thereat. Instead, he sorrowed greatly 
saying, “ Alas, that ever I knew Perotheus ! For 
rather would I be back in prison so that I might 
see again the lady I love ! 

O dear Cousin Palamon,” he continued, 
yours is the victory in this adventure! P'ull 
blissfully in prison may you linger. In prison ? 
Nay, truly, in paradise ; for fortune has given you 
the lucky throw ! ” 

Upon the other side Palamon made great 
lament when he learned that Arcite was free. 


34 Stories From Chaucer 

“ Alas ! ” quoth he, Arcite, my cousin, the 
fruit of the strife falls to you. You will walk 
free in Thebes and think little of my misery. 
Instead, you will mayhap gather together a great 
army and make war upon this city and thus ob- 
tain the fair lady to be your wife ; while I linger 
here in this cage helpless with pain and love.” 

Indeed it were hard to tell which of the twain 
suffered the deepest woe. Arcite in Thebes fell 
into such dire sorrow that there never was so sad 
a creature before or since. He ceased to eat, 
sleep or drink until he became so lean that he 
looked like an arrow-shaft. While Palamon, 
though he could see his lady day by day, was 
fettered closely in a prison cell. 

One night the exile Arcite had a dream. He 
thought that the winged god Mercury stood be- 
fore him bidding him be of good cheer. 

“ Go back to Athens,” said the god, “ and 
there will your sorrow have an end.” 

And with that word Arcite sprang up with a 
start, crying, “ Now truly I shall turn back to 
Athens at once ! The fear of death shall not 
keep me from sight of the beautiful lady.” 

And as he said this he caught up a mirror and 
saw that his sickness had so changed his color 
and visage that none would know him. He was 


Palamon and Arcite 


35 

right glad of this, as now he knew that he could 
go to Athens without fear of discovery. So he 
lost no time in changing his garments for those 
of a poor laborer ; and all alone, save for a faith- 
ful squire as humbly clad as his master, he 
hastened to the city and court of Theseus. 

There he offered his services to a chamberlain 
of Emily’s house, to hew wood or draw water, or 
do any menial work entrusted to him. And he 
received service there, and could soon hold his 
own with the best of the servants, for he was 
young and very strong. 

Thus Arcite became page-in-waiting for the 
fair Emily, and was called Philostrate. 

In fine it came about that no one in all the 
court was half so well beloved as he, for he was 
gentle of speech and modestly behaved. Every- 
body said it would be no more than right if 
Theseus promoted the young man and placed 
him in a rank which would better display his 
virtues. 

So general was his fame that Theseus began to 
notice him. He made him a squire and gave him 
gold to maintain his position. Moreover his own 
moneys was brought Arcite privately from 
Thebes, but he managed to spend it so prudently 
that none suspected him. In this manner Arcite 


Stories From Chaucer 


36 

lived happily for a long time and bore himself so 
well in peace and war that no man became 
dearer to Theseus. 

Meanwhile for seven long years Palamon had 
wasted away in prison. There seemed not the 
slightest hope of his ever getting out, and his 
great love for Emily was consuming him. But 
at last, one May night, some friend of his gave 
the jailer a drink which caused him to fall into a 
deep sleep; and Palamon was thus enabled to 
make his escape from the tower. He fled as far 
as he was able, but the night was short and he 
must needs hide himself in a grove. He planned 
to travel by night and hide thus by day until he 
should reach Thebes, where he hoped to stir all 
his friends up in his behalf. Then he would 
either lose his life in battle or win the hand of 
Emily. 

Now would I turn again to Arcite, who little 
knew of the turn affairs had taken. 

The busy lark, messenger of day, was saluting 
the morrow of Palamon’s escape, when Theseus’ 
chief squire Arcite arose and mounted his steed. 
He was mindful to do homage to the May morn- 
ing, and also weave a garland for his lady love. 
And as he rode he sang aloud in the sweet sun- 
shine : 


Palamon and Arcite 


37 


** O May, with all thy flowers and green, I pray. 
Accept our welcome, fairest, freshest May ! 

Yield thee of all thy tender green to-day ! ” 

Then from his courser he sprang merrily and 
plunged into the grove still singing. A path led 
him by chance right by the bush in which Pala- 
mon lay hid, fearing for his life. But the fugitive 
did not know it was Arcite, and he passed by 
unknowing and unknown. So was it said of old 
that “ the field hath eyes and the wood hath 
ears.” 

A man should be cautious even when he 
fancies himself most secure. Arcite was care- 
less and after he had roamed up and down still 
singing, his mood changed suddenly and he fell 
into a brown study. 

Seating himself near to where Palamon lay he 
exclaimed : “ Alas, the day that I was born ! 
Though I am of royal blood I have become the 
squire and slave of my mortal enemy ; and I 
dare not own even my own name of Arcite. 
Ah, Mars and Juno, save me and the wretched 
Palamon martyred in prison ! For all my pains 
are because of the love of Emily.” 

When Palamon heard this he felt as though a 
sword had been suddenly thrust through his 
heart. His face grew pale as death and he sprang 


Stories From Chaucer 


38 

out of the thicket like a madman, crying, 
“ Arcite! False, wicked traitor ! Now are you 
caught in full confession of your misdeeds ! You 
are of my blood, bound to me by vow, but you 
have dared to love my lady, and to trick the 
duke Theseus. For all this baseness you or I 
must die! I am unarmed, having but lately 
escaped from prison, but give you no heed to 
that, as I fear nothing. I am Palamon your 
mortal foe ! ” 

When Arcite heard and knew him, fury filled 
his heart. Drawing his sword he exclaimed, 
“ By him who rules above, if you were not sick, 
mad for love and without weapon, never would 
you stir from this grove alive I Here I give 
back the bond of fealty you claim I owe. What, 
fool, know you not that love is free ? I tell you 
plain, I will love this lady always 1 But since 
you are a worthy knight willing to leave the 
issue to fair contest, here is my gage. By to- 
morrow at dawn I shall not fail to meet you as a 
knight in combat here in this spot. And I will 
bring full arms for us both, and choose the 
poorest for myself. Also I will bring meat and 
drink and a bed for you this night, so that you 
may be strengthened for the battle. Then if you 
win, the lady love is yours.” 



HE SPRANG OUT OF THE THICKET LIKE A MADMAN 



Palamon and Arcite 39 

Palamon merely answered, “ I grant it to you." 
And thus parted two who had once been devoted 
comrades. 

O Cupid ! — say I — thou art the God of Love, 
and yet thou hast no charity ! In thy kingdom 
thou wilt not brook even the presence of a friend 
and brother. Poor Palamon and Arcite found 
it so. 

When the morrow was come, behold Arcite 
riding to the battle-field. Before him on his 
steed he carried two full suits of armor, the one 
for himself, the other for Palamon. He found 
his cousin awaiting him ; and though each 
changed color on seeing the other, there was no 
greeting or “ good-day." But straightway, with- 
out wasting time or words, each helped the other 
to arm, as friendly as if he were his own brother. 

Then with lances sharp and strong they dashed 
upon each other, so fiercely that you would have 
thought Palamon a mad lion and Arcite a cruel 
tiger; or that they were two wild boars com- 
batting till the ground beneath their feet was red 
with blood. 

Now it so chanced that Duke Theseus was 
also abroad early on this bright May morning. 
He was devoted to the hunt ; and to-day he rode 
out with his queen Hippolyta, and Emily robed 


40 


Stories From Chaucer 


all in green. Their dogs gave chase to a deer 
and thus led them by the grove wherein Palamon 
and Arcite were contending so fiercely. Their 
bright swords flashed back and forth in the sun 
so hideously that it seemed each stroke would fell 
an oak. But the duke did not know who the two 
knights were. 

Setting spurs to his horse, Theseus dashed in 
between them, and drawing his sword cried, 
“ Ho ! No more of this on pain of death ! By 
mighty Mars, he shall lose his head who strikes a 
blow in my presence ! Tell me, forsooth, how 
comes it that ye fight so hardily in the lists with- 
out judge or proper officers for the fray ? ” 

Sire," replied Palamon weariedly, “ why 
should we waste our words ? Both of us have 
deserved death. We are two wretched creatures 
cumbered with our lives ; and you our rightful 
lord and judge. So give us, I pray you, neither 
mercy nor refuge. Slay me first, and slay my 
fellow afterward." 

Then Palamon told quite simply who they 
were. 

This is Arcite, your mortal foe, exiled from 
Athens on pain of death. Yet under the name 
of Philostrate he has deceived you and risen to 
be your chief squire. And all this has he done 


Palamon and Arcite 


41 


for love of the Princess Emily. And I that 
make this my last confession before death am 
that miserable Palamon, lately broken wickedly 
forth from your prison. I also am your mortal 
foe ; and I also love the fair Emily so madly that 
I would gladly die this moment in her presence. 
Therefore I ask my death and doom to-day. 
But slay my fellow in the selfsame way.” 

The duke had heard him through and now 
gave answer : “No further judgment is needed. 
Your own mouth and confession have con- 
demned you both. By mighty Mars, ye shall 
surely die ! ” 

Then the queen for very womanhood began 
to weep, and so did Emily and all the ladies in 
the company. They deemed it passing pitiful 
that two brave men of high degree should come 
to such an end, and all for loving a lady so faith- 
fully. When they saw the knights’ wounds all 
gaping and red, they fell upon their knees be- 
fore Duke Theseus and prayed and entreated 
him to pardon the knights for their sakes. 

And presently the duke felt his heart soften 
within him. His brow lightened, and looking 
around him with a quizzical eye he said, “ Lo ! 
what a mighty and great lord is this God of 
Love! Here are this Arcite and this Palamon 


42 


Stories From Chaucer 


who might have gone to Thebes and dwelt there 
safely and royally. Yet hath Love blinded their 
eyes and led them both hither to their doom ! 
Now does this not seem the height of folly? 
See how they bleed ! Truly the Love God has 
paid them full wages ! And the best jest of it 
all is, that the lady who has been the cause of 
all this knew no more about it than a cuckoo ! 
Verily, .whether young or old a man will play 
the fool, as I know for myself in my younger 
days ! 

“ Well, I will pardon you,” he added good- 
naturedly, “ for the sake of my own past fol- 
lies, and upon the request of the queen and my 
sister Emily. But you must both swear never 
to come and make war upon my land, but al- 
ways to be my friends.” 

This they promised him full thankfully, for it 
was a fair, royal speech. 

Then Theseus continued, still in bantering 
mood : “ As for birth and wealth, though 

Emily were a queen both of you are doubtless 
worthy of her hand. But you can see for your- 
selves that she cannot wed you both, though 
you fought till doomsday. One of you, whether 
he likes or no, must forsooth go whistle and en- 
dure his woe. This then is the plan which I 


Palamon and Arcite 


43 


propose. Both of you shall return to Thebes 
without ransom or hindrance ; and this day year 
shall come again bringing with you an hundred 
knights armed for the lists and ready to do 
battle for your cause. I pledge my knightly 
word that whichever side shall come off victor 
in the fray — whether it be Palamon or Arcite 
— to him shall I give Emily to wife. What 
think ye of this plan ? ” 

Who looks lightly now but Palamon ? Who 
springs up for very joy but Arcite? Every one 
was so delighted with the gracious words of 
Theseus, that they fell upon their knees again and 
thanked him with all their heart and might. 
But the most thankful hearts of all were Palamon 
and Arcite. 

These young knights forthwith took their 
leave and made straight for Thebes where they 
set about enlisting their hundred chosen fol- 
lowers. 

Duke Theseus, on his part, became busied 
with preparations for the tourney. First of all 
an outdoor theatre had to be built, and a noble 
structure it was, when he had finished it. There 
was nothing else in the world to equal it. It 
was in circular form and measured a mile round 
about. Its walls were of stone, and a great 


44 


Stories From Chaucer 


ditch ran on the outside. On the east and west 
sides stood gates of white marble ; and there was 
not a carver or sculptor or painter or cunning 
worker of any sort that Theseus did not employ 
to decorate the theatre. 

There were three temples. That one over 
the east gate was devoted to Venus the Goddess 
of Love; the one to the west was for Mars, 
God of War; while on the north side he built 
a turret in which was an oratory all of white 
alabaster and red coral, and this was given to 
Diana, Goddess of Hunting. 

In the Temple of Venus were beautiful pic- 
tures of banquets, and dances, and people sing- 
ing or else walking in flower gardens with their 
lady loves. And there were many famous 
stories told in these scenes, about Hercules, and 
Narcissus, and King Solomon, and the rich 
Croesus. The statue of Venus herself was 
glorious to see. She was shown floating amid 
green waves which were bright as glass. She 
had a harp in her hand and a rose garland on 
her head; while doves hovered over her. By 
her side stood Cupid, the little Love God, with 
wings upon his shoulders. He had a bow and 
arrows, and he was blinded so that he could not 
Xp\\ whom he struck. 


Palamon and Arcite 


45 


The Temple of Mars was not at all like this, 
but was full of terrible pictures of battles and 
burnings and famines and sinking ships and other 
dreadful things. There were blacksmiths beating 
out sharp swords upon their anvils, and men run- 
ning hither and yon to slay each other. There 
were also stories of Julius Caesar and Nero and 
other leaders in conflict. The statue of Mars 
stood armed upon a chariot, looking as grim as 
possible. By his side stood a hungry wolf with 
glaring red eyes. 

The Temple of Diana was still different. Venus 
wishes every one to love and to wed. Mars wishes 
every one to hate and to fight. While Diana 
wishes every one neither to quarrel nor to wed, 
but to hunt all day in the fields ; so the pictures 
in her temple were all of hunting stories. The 
Goddess was shown seated upon a deer with 
small dogs round about. She was clad in green, 
with a bow in her hand and a sheaf of arrows. 
The moon was shown just disappearing with the 
darkness, for Diana loves the early morning. 

Now I have told you all about the wonderful 
theatre and the three temples ; so let us hasten 
on to the time of the tournament. 

True to their promise, Palamon and Arcite 
returned to Athens bringing each his hundred 


46 Stories From Chaucer 

knights. Splendidly mounted and equipped was 
every knight, so that never since the world began 
was seen a company so splendid. And every 
knight was eager to strike a blow on behalf of 
Love, and prove the prowess of his leader. 

With Palamon rode Licurgus the mighty King 
of Thrace. Black was his beard and manly was 
his face. His limbs were great, his muscles hard 
and strong, his shoulders broad, his arms round 
and long. According to the fashion of his coun- 
try he stood upright in a golden car drawn by 
four white bulls. Instead of armor, he wore a 
black bear’s skin slung over his shoulder. Be- 
hind his car leaped more than twenty huge white 
hounds held to their leashes by golden collars set 
with spikes. 

With Arcite — so say the stories — rode the 
mighty Emetrius, King of India, upon a bay 
horse with steel trappings and covered with cloth 
of gold. He looked like Mars the God of War. 
His coat armor was inlaid with pearls ; his mantle 
covered with rubies glowed like a flame. His 
curling yellow hair glittered in the sun, and lion- 
like his glance swept all about him. Upon his 
wrist he carried a tame white eagle. 

Indeed the noble companies who followed 
Palamon and Arcite were made up chiefly of 


Palamon and Arcite 


47 

dukes and earls and kings who delighted in the 
game of chivalry. 

When Theseus saw this gallant array, he 
hastened to welcome all the knights and do 
them honor. Indeed no man great or small 
could have done more than he. 

The minstrelsy, the service at the feast, 

The great gifts given to the first and least. 

The palace with its very rich array 
Giving due place to every one that day ; 

What ladies were the fairest, danced the best, 

Or spoke of love with most bewitching zest ; 

What hawks were perched on high above the door. 
What hounds lay sleeping sound upon the floor ; 

all this I shall not mention in detail, but shall 
hasten on to the point of my story. 

Before the joustings should begin, both Pala- 
mon and Arcite thought it well to visit one of 
the temples and implore the aid of the gods. 
Palamon went to Venus, Goddess of Love, and 
laid his suit before her in an impassioned plea. 
If he was not to be favored in his wooing, he 
prayed that a spear-thrust might end his days. 
When he had concluded, the statue of Venus 
shook, though after some delay. But he ac- 
cepted this as a sign that his prayer was an- 
swered and went forth with a glad heart. 


48 Stories From Chaucer 

Arcite chose the Temple of Mars and offered 
up sacrifice to the God of War with a prayer for 
the safety and success of his arms. And when 
he had ended the temple doors quaked and the 
target of Mars rang, while the altar fires burned 
brightly. It seemed to the joyous Arcite, also, 
that he heard a low murmuring which said 
“ Victory ! ” 

But Emily did not wish to marry. She loved 
the freedom of the woods and the pleasures of 
the hunt. So it is not strange that we see her 
going, on this self-same day to the Temple of 
Diana. In fact she implored that chaste goddess 
to keep her from wedding either one of her 
suitors ! But she had the grace to add that — if 
she must marry — she would prefer the one who 
loved her best. 

Diana, however, would not listen to her. The 
fire upon the altar went out with a whistling 
sound, and poor Emily was so frightened that 
she began to cry. And therewith Diana ap- 
peared and said to her, “ Daughter, cease thy 
heaviness ! Among the gods it is affirmed that 
thou shalt wed the one or the other of these 
suitors who for thy sake have suffered so 
greatly. But which of them it shall be, I may 
not tell.” 


Palamon and Arcite 49 

And with this she vanished leaving Emily- 
spellbound. 

But the gods Mars and Venus had a great 
quarrel because each had promised the victory 
and both could not win. Now you shall see how 
they favored, the one Arcite, the other Palamon. 

It was on Sunday that the two knights and 
their companies reached Athens. All Monday 
was given over to jousts and dances ; and early 
on Tuesday the great tournament began. 

Such noise and clattering of horse and armor 
as was heard in all public places ! Such an array 
of horsemen ! Lords in rich steel gleaming with 
gold ; knights with embroidered helmets ; squires 
nailing heads to spears and buckling visors; 
armorers busy with file and hammer; yeomen 
on foot lacing the armor-plates ; common soldiers 
hastening about armed only with staves — all was 
bustle and ^ommotion while the foamy steeds 
champed upon their golden bits. Pipes, trump- 
ets, clarionets, and drums resounded on every 
hand. Little knots of people — here three, there 
ten — gathered about the duke’s palace arguing 
the merits of the two Theban rivals. Some said 
one thing, some another. Some favored him of 
the black beard, some the knight of the close- 
cropped hair. Some said, He looks grim and 


50 Stories From Chaucer 

will fight ! ” and some, He carries an axe that 
weighs twenty pounds ! ” 

Duke Theseus sat at his window watching 
this great concourse of people and men-at-arms ; 
while you may be sure the people lost no chance 
to gaze upon the duke and to do him honor; 
for they delighted to obey his word. 

Presently a herald came forth and shouted 
Ho ! ’* The noise of the crowd instantly ceased 
while they waited to hear what should be the 
duke's will. Then the herald spoke further : 

“ The Lord Duke has of his high discretion 
considered that it were destruction to gentle 
blood to fight in this tourney as if in mortal 
battle. Wherefore to save life and limb he hereby 
changes his first purpose. No man, on pain of 
loss of life, shall bring into the lists short sword, 
axe, or knife. No man shall ride more than one 
course with a sharp spear. Whoso comes to 
harm shall be taken but not slain, and shall be 
brought to a stake there to await the issue of the 
battle. And if it so happen that the leader of 
either side be taken or slain then no longer shall 
the tourney last. God speed you ! Go forth 
with long sword and mace and fight your fill ! ” 
The voice of the people reached the very sky’: 
God save such a lord who is so good he will 


Palamon and Arcite 


51 


not allow bloodshed ! ’* Up struck the trumpets 
and the martial music, and forth rode the splendid 
company to the field of battle. First came the 
duke, with the two Theban knights on either 
side ; then came the queen and fair Emily and 
all the cavalcade according to their rank. 

When they came to the lists all the people 
pressed forward to obtain seats. Arcite entered 
the western gate by the Temple of Mars and 
arrayed his hundred knights under his red ban- 
ner. Palamon entered the east gate of Venus 
and unfurled a white banner over his company. 
Never was there seen two hosts more equally 
matched. The names were read out so that 
there might be no difference in numbers ; then 
the gates were shut and the herald cried aloud : 

“ Sir knights, now do your duty!*' 

The trumpets rang the charge loud and clear, 
and at the same instant the two companies sprang 
forward into shock of battle. Now might one 
see who could joust and who could ride ! The 
spears shiver like straws upon the thick shields. 
Swords flash like fire and descend mightily upon 
helmets. Maces go crashing through breast- 
plates. There stumble the steeds head first ; here 
rises a man from out the press to continue the 
fight on foot ; and there a man is taken, badly 


52 


Stories From Chaucer 


wounded to the prison stake. Blood flows freely 
on every side, despite the first orders of Duke 
Theseus. 

From time to time the duke calls a halt in the 
fray, and sends food and drink to the warriors ; 
then the battle is resumed more savagely than 
ever. 

Full often do the two Thebans meet and each 
work havoc upon his foe. Each has unhorsed 
the other twice. Never was tiger, whose whelps 
have been stolen, so cruel as Arcite. Never lion, 
mad with hunger, raged like Palamon. Soon 
both are covered with blood from their wounds. 

Thus waged the battle back and forth all day, 
and many valiant deeds were done. Finally as 
Palamon fought with Arcite, the strong king 
Emetrius, crazed by excitement, charged also upon 
Palamon and drove his sword deep into his side. 
A score of others sprang forward also and seized 
Palamon and, despite his struggles, bore him to 
the stake. Forth charged his followers to rescue 
him, Licurgus in the van, but he in turn was 
borne down in the press. But King Emetrius 
for all his strength was knocked a sword’s length 
out of his saddle, so violently did Palamon hit 
him ere he was taken. And so the rescue went 
for nought, and Palamon was brought to the 


Palamon and Arcite 53 

stake, which ended the tourney by the rules of 
Duke Theseus. 

How sorrowful was this wretched Palamon 
when he saw that by unfair advantage they had 
turned the fight against him ! As soon as The- 
seus perceived that the hero was taken, he cried 
to the knights who still fought “ Ho ! ” and the 
tumult was ceased. 

Then he said : “ I will be a true judge and im- 
partial. Arcite shall have Emily, for by his good 
fortune he has fairly won her.” 

Upon which the people shouted so loud that 
it seemed as if the lists would fall. 

But the Goddess Venus who had promised to 
favor Palamon was sore distressed, and went for 
aid to her father Saturn, who comforted her, say- 
ing, “ Daughter, hold thy peace ; Mars has had 
his way, and now it is thy turn ! ” 

Meanwhile in the lists the trumpets sounded 
with loud minstrelsy. The fierce Arcite, over- 
come with joy, raised the visor of his helmet and 
spurred his horse down the lists to pay his duty 
to the lady. He looked up at her as he galloped 
forward, and she in turn looked down with 
friendly eye ; for women always follow the favor 
of fortune. While he rode thus carelessly, the 
God Saturn caused his horse to take fright 


54 Stories From Chaucer 

from some fancied shape arising from the 
ground. 

The horse shied violently and stumbled as it 
leaped, and before Arcite could save himself he 
was thrown from the saddle. Headlong he fell, 
and lay still as death, his face black with the 
sudden rush of blood to his head. They picked 
him up and carried him to Theseus’ palace, where 
they cut his armor away and laid him in bed. 
And all the while he was conscious and moaned, 
“ Emily ! Emily ! ” 

Duke Theseus with all his company rode home 
in great spirits ; for they had seen a great day’s 
sport. None were slain, though many were 
grievously hurt, and it was told him that Arcite 
would not die. While as for broken limbs and 
cuts and bruises they were part of a soldier’s for- 
tune. 

So the duke bade all make merry, and he held 
a feast for three days and gave them all rich 
presents. At parting also he rode away with 
the kings and lords, so that each one departed 
worthily and in good heart. 

But as for Arcite the sore of his wound in- 
creased more and more, and could not be over- 
come by the surgeons. Balms and salves and 
drink of herbs gave him no ease, for nature re- 


Palamon and Arcite 


55 


fused to perform her part. And when nature 
balks, then farewell physic ! There is nothing 
more to do but carry a man to the church- 
yard. 

When Arcite found that he was not getting 
well, and felt that he must die, he sent for Emily 
and his Cousin Palamon. Tenderly he told Emily 
of all the sorrow that was in his heart through 
loss of her ; how that he had suffered for her 
sake, and now for her sake must lay down his 
life. Then he turned to his cousin and said : 
** With this my Cousin Palamon, I have had strife 
and rancor because of you. But now death ends 
all this, and perhaps it is the best way. Truly in 
all this world I know of no man so worthy to be 
loved as Palamon. He has served you well and 
faithfully. And so as my last request I ask that 
if you ever shall become a wife you forget not 
Palamon, that noble man.” Then more faintly : 
“ Farewell my sweet foe— and — my — Emily ! ” 

And with that his breath began to fail him, and 
the chill of death crept up over his body. His 
eyes grew dark, but with their last ray he looked 
up at his lady and whispered : Mercy — Emily ! ” 

And thus died Arcite. 

When they saw that he was no more, Emily 
fell swooning so that Theseus must needs bear 


56 Stories From Chaucer 

her away. Palamon also was overcome with 
grief for loss of his old-time comrade. 

All the city mourned for Arcite, both young 
and old. No greater weeping was ever made for 
Hector of Troy, for all the people had been taken 
with this valiant knight and true. 

The good Duke Theseus, always mindful of 
the right thing, caused a lofty funeral pyre to be 
built in that selfsame grove where Arcite and 
Palamon had first contended for Emily. And 
he likewise prepared a bier overlaid with the 
finest cloth of gold, and thereon laid the body of 
the knight clad in the same rich attire and 
crowned with laurel wreath. His face was left 
uncovered s'5 that all the people might see him, 
and thus was he carried forth from the great hall 
of the palace. 

Three splendid white steeds in glittering steel 
trappings bore all the armor and weapons of 
Arcite to the grove, and they were followed by 
the bier itself borne aloft on the shoulders of the 
noblest Greeks in Athens. Upon the one side 
walked the aged Egeus, father of Theseus ; and 
upon the other walked the duke himself bearing 
in his hands vessels filled with honey and milk 
and wine. Next came Palamon robed in deepest 
black, his head sprinkled with ashes in token of 


Palamon and Arcite 


57 

his woe. And next came Emily also in deep 
mourning, for she considered herself the wife of 
the dead knight ; and she carried in her hand a 
torch to light the funeral pyre. 

With solemn labor and ceremonial the fire was 
laid high about the bier, with sweet-smelling 
woods, and the whole was covered with cloth of 
gold and festoons of flowers. Then Emily ap- 
plied the torch, and as the crackling flames 
leaped upward she fell swooning ; for her grief 
seemed greater than she could bear. Meanwhile 
upon the flames some cast their shields, and 
others their weapons and jewels, as the duke 
poured out the vessels of honey and milk and 
wine for an offering to the departed soul. Then 
all the Greeks rode thrice around the funeral 
pile shouting aloud and waving their spears. 
And thus with ceremony and funeral games the 
last honors were paid to the dead knight Arcite. 

Time heals all wounds. The period of 
mourning for Arcite passed with the changing 
months, although his memory was still clear and 
beloved. Then came a day when the people of 
Athens desired to form an alliance with their 
ancient enemy Thebes. And for this cause the 
noble Theseus sent for Palamon. Unknowing 


Stories From Chaucer 


58 

the purpose of the call, Palamon came still 
dressed in black and looking the sorrow he had 
never ceased to feel. 

Then the fatherly duke talked long to him, 
advising him to end his mourning and look 
upon the joy of life. He reminded him also of 
Arcite's dying request that Emily should favor 
him, and he ended by summoning the lady and 
placing her hand in that of Palamon. 

“ Sister,” quoth he, “ this has my full assent 
and that of my Parliament. It is needful that 
we be knit closer to our neighbor Thebes by 
ties of blood and affection. Take then this 
noble Palamon as your husband. Long has he 
served you faithfully, and you will not rue your 
grace.” 

And to Palamon : “ I trow there is little need 

of sermoning to make you consent to this thing. 
Take this lady by the hand to be your lawful 
wedded wife.” 

And so with all bliss and melody Palamon 
was at last married to Emily. Need I say that 
they lived happily ever after ? 

For now hath Palamon his fullest wealth. 

Living in bliss and riches and in health ; 

And Emily loveth him so tenderly, 

And he doth cherish her so faithfully, 


Palamon and Arcite 


That never was there word between the two 
Of jealousy or other things that rue. 

Thus endeth Palamon and Emily ; 

And God save all this noble company 1 


Here is ended the Knight’s Tale. 




tTbe priest’ 9 tTale 

THE COCK AND THE FOX 



1 


i 

I 




PROLOGUE 


W HEN the Knight had told his tale there 
was not one in all the company but 
said it was a noble story. The Host 
was delighted with so good a beginning, and was 
on the point of asking the Monk to tell the next 
tale. But just then the Miller, who had drunk so 
much ale that he could scarcely sit upon his horse, 
woke up and insisted upon telling a story, whether 
it was his turn or not. Forthwith he began to 
spin out a droll yarn about a carpenter who was 
outwitted by two clerks. The Reeve, however, 
did not like the tale, as he was a carpenter by 
trade ; so he began a story at the expense of the 
Miller. 

Finally when the Monk got a hearing he 
swelled up in a very learned manner and began 
with a “ tragedy ” so long that it began with 
Adam and ended with Julius Caesar. 

All stood it as long as they could, when the 
Knight could no longer keep his peace. 

“ Hold ! " said he, “ good sir, no more of this. 
What you have said is right enough, I guess, but 
'tis somewhat heavy for this company.” 

63 


64 Prologue 

“Yea,” quoth our Host, “ you say well, for, 
soothly, the tale annoys all the company. 
Wherefore, Sir Monk, I pray you, try us with 
something else.” 

“ Nay,” replied the Monk testily “ tis the best 
I can do ; so let another have his say.” 

Our Host looked about him and saw the Nun’s 
Priest standing near, looking jovial and merry. 

“ Come, Sir John, tell us a story to make our 
hearts glad,” he commanded. 

And the jolly Priest, nothing loth, began : 

Here beginneth the Priest’s Tale. 


The Cock and the Fox 


A POOR widow, bent with age, once dwelt 
in a small cottage beside a grove of 
trees in a valley. She was quite poor, 
but by good management she supported herself 
and her two daughters. Her chief wealth was 
in three large sows, three cows, and a sheep 
which was a great pet and was called Molly. 
The rooms of the cottage were meanly furnished 
and marred by soot ; and they had to eat their 
food without sauce. No wine either white or 
red ever came on the table, but the widow had 
plenty of brown bread and milk as well as bacon, 
with now and then an egg or two, so they lived 
comfortably enough after all. 

She had fenced a small yard all about with 
sticks and left a dry ditch on the outside; and in 
this yard was kept a cock called Chanticleer, who 
could outcrow anything else in the whole coun- 
try. His voice was merrier than the organ 
which resounds in church on mass-days, and it 
was more certain as to time than an abbey 
clock, for he always knew when the dawn was at 

65 


66 


Stories From Chaucer 


hand and welcomed it right lustily. His comb 
was redder than fine coral, and jagged like the 
battlements of a castle wall. His bill was black 
and shone like jet. His legs and toes were blue, 
his nails lily-white, and his plumage like 
burnished gold. 

This noble fellow had in his domain seven 
hens who were marked very much like him. 
The fairest of them all was called Pertelotte. 
Courteous she was, discreet and friendly, and 
carried herself so well that from the day she was 
a week old she had won old Chanticleer’s heart 
completely. He loved her so that it was a joy 
to hear them sing together at sunrise : “ My 

love is going far away.” For at that time, so 1 
have heard, both birds and beasts could talk as 
well as sing. 

And so one day it befel that as Chanticleer sat 
upon his perch, with the fair Pertelotte beside 
him, he began to groan aloud as a man who is 
troubled in his sleep. When Pertelotte heard 
him she was alarmed, and said, Dear heart, 
what ails you, that you groan like this ? ” 

Forgive me, dear,” he answered, “ but I have 
had a dreadful dream that haunts me still. Me- 
thought I saw, roaming up and down in our yard, 
a beast that looked something like a dog ; and it 


The Cock and the Fox 67 

seized me and tried to make an end of me. Its 
color was a reddish-yellow, its tail and ears tipped 
with black, its nose was sharp and its eyes glowed 
like fire. 0-oh, my bones ! I think I see him 
yet ! ” 

** Pish ! ’* she replied ; ** fie on you for a faint 
heart ! I can no longer love such a chicken 
liver ! ” 

And forthwith she began to laugh him to scorn, 
for confessing that he was afraid of anything — 
least of all a silly dream. And she ended by ad- 
vising him to physic himself as he undoubtedly 
had a poor digestion. 

“ Madame,” he replied with dignity, “ enough 
of your lore. But you should know that dreams 
are not to be lightly regarded ; they often foretell 
> good as well as ill. I have known them, in my 
own experience, to bring to light murders and 
other crimes. Also do you not remember how 
Daniel in the Bible profited by his dreams ? And 
how Joseph gave heed to them so that he became 
Pharaoh's chief ruler, after he had told the butler 
and baker what should happen to them ? 

“ As for physics and herbs, I do not take much 
stock in them,” he continued, “ for I think they are 
poisonous. But let us talk of something pleas- 
ant ; for, dear Pcrtelotte, when I see how fair 


68 


Stories From Chaucer 


your face is, with those red circles around your 
eyes, it makes all my fear to vanish. For truly 
you are my chiefest joy.” 

With this gallant speech he flew down from 
the perch and with a cluck began to call all the 
hens around him, for he had found some corn in 
the yard. Right royal he looked as he strutted 
back and forth, scarcely deigning to set his foot 
upon the ground. And thus with his seven hens 
around him, like a king in his palace, I will leave 
Chanticleer for the nonce until I can tell what 
happened to him. 

Winter had ended, March was also passed, and 
the gentle Spring was quickly drawing near, when 
it chanced that Chanticleer, walking proudly 
about with his hens, looked up at the sun and 
knowing that it was at high noon began to crow 
loudly. 

“ The sun,” he cried, has climbed up into the 
high heaven. Madame Pertelotte, my heart’s 
bliss, hark to the joyful birds, how they sing, and 
see the fresh flowers springing up. Truly my 
heart is full of joy ! ” 

But quick on the heels of this joy was to tread 
sorrow ; and Chanticleer in his happiest hour was 
to meet with misfortune. For a sly fox which 
had dwelt in the grove hard by for three years. 


The Cock and the Fox 69 

had crept stealthily into the yard and now lay hid 
in a vegetable bed awaiting his chance to seize 
him. 

O Chanticleer ! sad the day when thou didst 
leave thy perch, for thou wert warned in thy 
dreams ! And sad the day when thou didst heed 
the counsel of thy wife and neglect the warn- 
ing! 

But thinking no harm, the fair Pertelotte and 
her sisters bathed merrily in the dust and preened 
their feathers in the sun ; while Chanticleer sang 
merrier than a mermaid. But as he sang he 
chanced to look in the vegetable bed — and there 
lay his enemy the fox, just as he had seen him in 
the dream I 

Forgetful of his crowing, the cock turned tail 
and started to flee from the danger. But the fox 
stepped forward and said politely, “ Gentle sir, 
whither would you go, thus to leave one who is 
your best friend ? Be not afraid, for I would in- 
deed be wicked if I sought to do harm to a 
noble fellow like you. For, truth to tell, I came 
not to spy upon you, but to listen to your voice. 
You sing like an angel, and better still you put 
feeling into your music. In former days I knew 
both your father and your mother well; and 
there never was any one who could sing like 


70 


Stories From Chaucer 


your father — excepting yourself. He put his 
whole heart into it, and took such pains to get 
his notes out, that he would stand on tiptoe and 
stretch his neck and wink both his eyes in the 
effort. And now, sir, I beg of you that you will 
sing for me, so that I may see if your voice is 
like his.” 

The silly Chanticleer was so pleased with this 
flattery that he beat his wings for very joy. 
Standing upon his tiptoes, stretching out his 
neck, and closing his eyes, he began to crow as 
loudly as he could. This was, of course, what 
the wily old fox was waiting for, and he at once 
seized the cock by the neck and started off toward 
the wood with him. 

Alas, poor Chanticleer ! It was on a Friday 
that this mischance happened — unlucky day for 
him. Certes, there was no such cry and lamen- 
tation among all the women of Troy, than now 
burst forth from the throats of the affrighted 
hens when they saw their liege lord being carried 
away ; and the loudest of them all in her grief 
was Pertelotte. 

The outcry aroused the widow and her two 
daughters, and out of the door they came just in 
time to see the fox in full flight with the cock 
on his back. Crying “ After him ! the fox, the 





THE FOX IN FULL FLIGHT WITH THE COCK ON HIS BACK 





■ '*1 





The Cock and the Fox 71 

fox ! ” they started at full speed for the wood, and 
as they ran others joined in the chase. First in 
speed ran Collie the dog ; then came the neigh- 
bors Talbot and Gerland and Granny Malkin 
with her distaff in her hand. Cows and calves 
and even the hogs came running after; the 
geese flew wildly squawking over the road; a 
swarm of bees came angrily out of a tree to see 
what it was all about ; the ducks quacked shrilly 
as though they were being killed; and withal 
there was such a hubbub you'd think the world 
was coming to an end. In good sooth, Jack 
Straw and all his gang never made so great a 
commotion when they rioted with the Flemings ; 
for the widow’s friends brought horns and whistles 
and trumpets, and when these failed they shouted 
so loudly that it seemed as though the heavens 
would fall — and all on account of one rascally 
fox ! 

But behold how suddenly Fortune turns the 
tables on her enemy ! This cock that lay upon 
the fox’s back, frightened almost to death, finally 
spoke to the fox and said : “ Sir, if I were as 
bold and strong as you, I should certainly turn 
upon these proud churls and send them packing 
about their business ! ‘ A very pestilence fall 
upon you ! ’ I should say to them ; ‘ in despite 


72 Stories From Chaucer 

of all your rabble and clatter I have reached the 
edge of the wood with my prize, and I shall eat 
him speedily ! ’ ” 

The fox was flattered by this advice and an^* 
swered, “ In faith, it shall be done ” 

But as he spoke the word the clever cock 
broke from his mouth suddenly and flew high 
up on a tree. 

“ Alas ! ” groaned the fox when he saw that 
Chanticleer was beyond his reach, I owe you 
an apology, dear friend, for frightening you and 
bringing you out of the yard by force. But, sir, 
I did it with no wicked intent. Come down 
from the tree and I shall explain the whole thing 
to you. I promise you I shall tell the truth.” 

“ Nay then,” quoth Chanticleer, “ 1 would in- 
deed be a fool if I let you beguile me more than 
once. Nevermore by flattery will you persuade 
me to sing and wink at the same time. For he 
who closes his eyes when they are given him to 
see with, will certainly come to grief.” 

“ Nay,” retorted the fox, but the worse 
fortune comes to him who hasn’t sense enough 
to keep from chattering when his mouth was 
given him to close ! ” 

So saying he slunk off into the wood to dodge 
the crowd of pursuers, and esteemed himself 


The Cock and the Fox 73 

lucky to go without his dinner that day ; while 
Chanticleer returned to his kingdom a hero in 
the eyes of Pertelotte. 


Lo, what comes of vain security, 

And carelessness, and trust in flattery ! 

But ye that hold this tale a mere folly. 

As of a fox, or of a cock and hen. 

Take home the moral to yourselves, good men; 
For St. Paul says that all that written is, 

^ Is written for our good ; and so I wis 
\ The wheat is here to sort out from the chafl", 
^nd men may profit them as well as laugh ! 


Here is ended the Priest’s Tale. 



Zl)C parboncr’s tTale 

THE THREE RIOTERS 



1 


I 


PROLOGUE 


NUN’S PRIEST,” said our Host 
anon, after that the company had ended 
their laughing over this merry tale, 

this were indeed a right good story of Chanti- 
cleer. It proves you to be a man of observation 
as well as a priest. Now let us see if there be 
another here who can tell one so likely to the 
point.” 

Forthwith he asked the Physician to try his 
turn ; and that learned man, clearing his throat 
and looking wise, told that tale of ancient Rome 
wherein Virginius slays his daughter — a woeful 
story enough. 

Our Host was greatly wrought up over this 
telling, and said : “ Harrow ! but this is a piteous 
tale for to hear ! Not but it was well told, Sir 
Physician. But I would listen to something 
merrier, an it please you. 

** What say you. Pardoner,” he continued ; 
** can you not rehearse for us some mirths or 
jests ? ” 

** It shall be done,” quoth the person addressed. 

77 


78 Prologue 

“ But first, as we are so near this friendly tavern, 
I would like somewhat to drink and eat." 

Hereupon, some of the gentler folk interposed. 

Nay, let him not give us any vulgar jests," 
said they ; “ but tell us some moral thing that 
we may learn as well as be entertained." 

I grant you this," quoth he, “ but I must 
think it over in a pot of ale." 

So saying he disappeared within the tavern, 
whence he presently returned wiping his lips 
across his sleeve. 

“ Lordings," quoth he, “ I am not a highly 
moral man myself, but I think I can tell you a 
moral tale. So hold your peace and listen." 


Here beginneth the Pardoner’s Tale. 


The Three Rioters 


I N Flanders there once lived a company of 
young men who gave themselves over to 
folly and wrong-doing. They lounged 
about the taverns all day drinking, swearing, 
singing, dancing and gambling; and their 
gluttony and idleness made them so wicked that 
when they heard of any other wrong thing, they 
not only laughed at it, but went straightway and 
sought out the sin for themselves. 

(At this point the Pardoner launched forth 
into a sermon on the various kinds of evil he 
had mentioned. For though he was not indeed 
a moral man — as he had admitted — he was very 
fond of sermonizing. The company were fain 
to yawn and gape before he was through his 
diatribe and ready to resume the thread of his 
tale.) 

Three of these rioters, of whom I have spoken, 
were sitting at the tavern drinking, early one 
morning, when they chanced to hear a bell clii^. 
It was being carried at the head of a funeral 
79 


8o 


Stories From Chaucer 


procession— as was the custom in those days. 
One of the rioters thereupon called the tavern- 
boy to him and said, “ Go out and ask the name 
of the dead man who passes by. And look 
you, report it to me speedily.” 

Sir,” quoth the lad, “ I do not need to ask, 
as the name was told me here not two hours 
agone. He was, in sooth, a mate of yours, and 
was slain only last night, while he sat here drink- 
ing, by that prowling thief called Death who lays 
low all the people in this country. With his 
spear he smote his heart in two and went his way 
in silence. This very pestilence has e’en slain his 
thousands ; and, master, ere you come into his 
sight it were well that you be prepared to meet 
him. For so my mother teaches me.” 

“ By holy Mary, the child speaks truth,” said 
the innkeeper ; “ for Death hath slain both man 
and woman, child and page, to be found in a 
large village within a mile of here. I trow he 
must live there, so many have met their end.” 

“ Odds boddikins ! ” cried one of the rioters, 
springing up, “ is it then so great a peril to meet 
him ? ril seek him out, by hedge and highway, 
. — and to this I make my vow ! Hearken ye, my 
mates, for we three are one in this. Let each of 
us hold up his hand and swear to become the 


The Three Rioters 


8i 


others' brother ; and we will seek out and slay 
this traitor Death, who by stealth has slain so 
many of our friends." 

The others loudly cheered him in their drunken 
way, and took the oath to stand together and 
make an end of Death before nightfall. So they 
started up at once and directed their steps to- 
ward the village of which the host had spoken ; 
and many an oath they swore, on the way, of 
what they should accomplish. 

They had not gone more than half a mile when 
they came to a stile, where they met a 
poor old man, who greeted them civilly enough 
with : “ God be with you, my lordings." 

But the proudest of these three rioters made 
answer : Why, how now, churl ! Why is your 

bag of bones so wrapped up, clear to your face ? 
And how do you manage to hang on to life so 
long 

The old man gave him a straight look and 
said : “ I live thus because I cannot find — either 

in city or in village, though I walked to India, — 
any one who will change his youth for my age. 
And so I must still keep my age as long as it is 
God’s will, for Death, alas ! will not come and 
take me. Thus I go up and down, a restless 
wanderer. 


82 


Stories From Chaucer 


" And on the ground which is my mother’s gate 
I knock, knock with my staff, early and late, 

And thus beseech, * Dear mother, let me in ! 

Lo, how I vanish, flesh and blood and skin ! 

Alas ! when shall my bones be laid to rest? 

Mother, I want with you to change my chest, 

That in my chamber now so long hath been. 

Yea, for a cloth of hair to wrap me in ! ’ 

But yet for me she will not do that grace. 

And thus doth come my pale and wrinkled face.” 

Here the old man drew himself up with dig- 
nity and added : “ But, sirs, it shows no courtesy 

in you to speak to one of my years so rudely, 
since he has done you no harm in word or deed. 
In Holy Writ you may read for yourselves that 
ye should respect the gray hairs of the aged. I 
have no more to say, but must go on my way.’" 

“ Nay, old churl, that you shall not do,” said 
another of the gamesters with an oath. “You 
have just spoken of that arch-traitor Death who 
has been slaying all our friends in the country 
round about. Belike you are his spy ; so tell us 
where he is, or it shall go hard with you ! ” 

“ Nay, sirs,” replied graybeard, “ speak not so 
rashly for your souls’ good. But if you are so 
set upon finding Death, I can tell you which way 
to go. Turn up this crooked by-path ; for in 
yonder grove I saw him sitting beneath a tree. 



DOWN THEY SQUATTED BY THE PRECIOUS HOARD 





The Three Rioters 


83 

and there he will abide for all your boasts. See 
ye that oak? Close by it ye shall find him. 
God save you, sirs, who would benefit mankind ; 
and mend you all I ” 

But before the old man had quite finished his 
speech the three rioters turned and ran toward 
the oak he had shown them. There they saw no 
one ; but on the ground they discovered a heap 
of golden coins, bright and round — well-nigh 
seven bushels of them, they thought. So de- 
lighted were they to see this great heap of 
glittering gold, that they speedily forgot all 
about Death whom they had been seeking. But 
Death was near by, for all that, and did not for- 
get them, as you shall see. 

Down they squatted by this precious hoard 
and dug their fingers deep into it, and let the 
coins trickle through their fingers hungrily. The 
worst of the three was the first to speak a word. 

Brothers,” said he, take heed to what I say. 
This treasure will make our fortune, so that we 
may spend all the rest of our lives in mirth and 
jollity. Lightly as it comes we’ll lightly spend. 
By heaven, who would have thought we should 
tumble into such luck ! ” 

Thereupon he counseled them with rare cun- 
ning that they should not try to carry the treasure 


84 Stories From Chaucer 

off in the daytime, lest they should be arrested 
for thieves. Instead, he advised that they draw 
lots, and the one chosen should go back to town 
for meat and drink, while the other two should 
remain in the grove and hide the gold until 
nightfall. 

The counsel seemed good to the others, and 
they drew, and the lot fell to the youngest to go 
back for food. He therefore started without loss 
of time. 

No sooner was he out of sight than the first 
speaker said to the other ; ‘‘You know well 
that you are my sworn brother, so I will tell you 
something to your profit. Here is bright gold 
heaped up plentifully which is to be divided 
among three of us. But one of us is away ; and 
if I can shape it so that the gold need only be 
divided between two, have I not done you a 
friendly turn ? ” 

The other listened greedily, but answered, “ I 
know not how it can be done. Our mate knows 
all about the gold, and we couldn’t fool him.” 

“ Well, I can tell you how, and that in a few 
words, if you’ll keep it dark,” said the first one. 

“ Tell away,” said the other ; “ I shall not be- 
tray you.” 

The first one tapped him on the shoulder and 


The Three Rioters 85 

sai*d in a low voice : “ Look you, there are two 

of us, and two are stronger, than one. When the 
youngster comes back we will make a game of 
him. You can pretend to wrestle with him 
while he is sitting down, and I will watch my 
chance and stab him. Then draw your dagger 
and do the same. After that, my dear friend, 
there will be only two of us to share the gold.” 

The other ruffian nodded his head at this, and 
so they plotted to murder the third in cold blood. 

Meanwhile the young man who had gone to 
town was not idle in wickedness ; for all the way 
thither he could not get his mind off the beauty 
of those new bright coins of gold. 

“ O Lord ! ” said he to himself, if I could 
only devise a plan so that I might have all this 
treaisure for myself, I should be the merriest fel- 
low under the canopy of heaven ! ” 

At last the fiend, our common enemy, put it 
into his head that he should buy poison and thus 
make an end of both his fellows. The fiend 
knew he would do this wicked thing for the 
sake of all the gold, and that he never would re- 
pent. 

So the young man lost no time in going to an 
apothecary's shop, in the town ; and he asked, 
plausibly enough, for some rat poison. He said 


86 


Stories From Chaucer 


there was a polecat roaming in his yard, which 
had carried off his fat ^eese, and he wanted some 
poison strong enough to kill the beast. 

The apothecary answered: “ You shall have 
something so strong that no living creature in 
this world could withstand it — even if he took an 
amount no greater than a grain of wheat.” 

The wretched plotter was secretly glad to hear 
this, and bought the poison without delay. Then 
in the next street he bought three large bottles 
of wine. Into two of them he put the poison, 
while he kept the third pure for his own use. 
For he purposed to toil all night at carrying and 
hiding the gold away, after that’ he had brought 
his comrades to a violent end. 

So when he had prepared his three bottles, he 
bought some meat also and went back to the 
other two rioters laden as if to dine. 

What need is there of telling the rest ? For as 
the other two had already planned, they slew the 
young man without delay. 

When the bloody deed was done, the first one 
said : “ Ha ! now that the young fool is out of 

the way, let us sit and drink and make us merry, 
and afterward we can bury the body.” 

And with the word he picked up one of the 


The Three Rioters 87 

bottles which contained the poison. He drank 
deeply and gave it to his companion. The 
apothecary had told true. Within a little while 
the poison took effect and they both died in 
fearful agony. 

Thus ended the two murderers, slain by the 
man they had murdered ; and thus came Death 
— whom they had forgot — to seek his own at the 
last. 


Here is ended the Pardoner’s T^. 




i 

I 



ZYiC lawyer’s tCalc 

CONSTANCE 





\ 



PROLOGUE 


^"”11 ^HE rascally Pardoner, when that he had 
I ended his tale, and judged that it had 

JL been received in the proper spirit, 

thought this a good time to do some traffic in 
his line. For he carried a bag of so-called relics 
— bones of saints and such like — which he al- 
lowed any one to kiss if they paid him for the 
privilege. 

“Why, bethink you,” said the wily rogue; 
“ any one of you is liable to fall off his horse and 
break his neck, ere this journey is done. Better 
be ready for Death by doing homage to the 
saints ! Sir Host, I will begin with you. You 
may kiss every one of these relics for a groat ; so 
come, unbuckle your purse ! ” 

“ Nay, let be ! ” said the Host, “ you are such a 
knave that I would never know what I was 
kissing.” 

Forthwith they engaged in wordy quarrel un- 
til peace was restored by the good offices of the 
Knight. Then our Host, looking about him for 
another who could tell a good story, espied the 
sober face of the Man of Laws. 


91 


92 


Prologue 

“ Sir Man of Laws,” he said, so have ye bliss, 
tell us a tale anon. You have submitted to stand 
in this trial with the others, at my judgment. So 
acquit you well before the jury.” 

The Landlord rolled these legal terms like 
sweet morsels under his tongue, and even the 
Lawyer was forced to smile as he replied, 

“ Answering your summons I will bear witness 
as best I can. But my friend Chaucer here could 
tell a better story. He writes books of rhymes 
and sets forth everything that ever happened. 
But perhaps he has overlooked this story. At 
any rate. I’ll tell it to the rest of you.” 


Here beginneth the Man’s Tale, of Law. 


Constance 


I N Syria there once dwelt a company of rich 
merchants who sent spices, cloth of gold, 
and fine satins to other lands and received 
in exchange gold and other valuables. Their 
goods were so new and yet so cheap that every- 
body desired to buy of them. 

Now it chanced that some of these merchants 
decided to go on a visit to Rome ; and while 
there they heard much talk concerning the Em- 
peror’s daughter, Constance. She was so beauti- 
ful and good, everybody said, that there was not 
another like her in the world. She ought to be 
queen of all Europe. And then they would go 
on to praise her good qualities — her modesty, 
courtesy and charity ; and the best of it was that 
all they said was true, as the merchants found out 
for themselves. For they had the chance to see 
this happy maiden for themselves. 

When their sojourn at Rome was ended, they 
took ship again for Syria, where they dwelt and 
traded as of yore, in great honor and prosperity. 
93 


94 


Stories From Chaucer 


These merchants stood in favor with the Sultan 
of Syria ; and when they returned from visiting 
any strange place, he would summon them to the 
palace, feast them royally, and ask questions 
about the people and lands they had seen. For 
thus he learned of what was going forward in the 
world around him. 

After their visit to Rome they, of course, had 
much to tell him about that great city. But most 
of all they dwelt upon the charms of the Lady Con- 
stance, the Emperor’s daughter. They spoke of 
her so much that the Sultan fell in love with her, 
merely from hearing their report, and he desired 
to win her as his wife. 

Then he called his secret council together and 
set forth the matter to them fully, saying that un- 
less he won the hand of Constance, and that very 
soon, he must surely die. So they were to de- 
vise some way out of this trouble without delay. 

The council hummed and hawed. Some said 
one thing, and some another. Many a subtle 
reason was brought forth, and many a shrewd bit 
of logic. But the upshot of the whole reasoning 
was that there was no other way out except for 
him to marry the maiden — if he could get her ! 

And therein lay the difficulty ; for the two na- 
tions had different customs, different laws and dif- 


Constance 


95 


ferent religions. No Christian prince, they said, 
would give his daughter to a follower of Ma- 
homet. 

But the Sultan answered impatiently : “ Rather 
than lose Constance, I will submit to being 
baptized in her faith. I must have her ! I will 
choose nobody else, so I pray you hold your 
arguments in peace ; for I cannot live without 
her ! ” 

This was rank heresy and every good Ma- 
hometan shuddered when he heard it. But the 
Sultan's will was law, and they set about the 
matter that very day. 

I will not tell you about all the treaties and 
embassies which then went forward. But at last 
the Pope was persuaded to intervene, and the 
Emperor agreed that if the Sultan and all his 
court should accept Christianity and be baptized, 
he should have Constance to wife and also receive 
a dowry in gold. The Emperor thought that in 
this way he would be doing a great service for the 
Christian religion ; while as for Constance, the 
poor lady was not consulted at all. 

Now some of you are probably waiting to hear 
me tell all about the preparations for the wedding 
which were made by the Emperor. But indeed 
they were so great that I could not begin to re- 


96 Stories From Chaucer 

hearse them in little space. Many people of high 
repute — bishops, lords, ladies, knights and other 
folk — were commanded to go with Constance to 
Syria. And everybody along the way thither 
was commanded to pray that Heaven would bless 
this marriage and speed the maiden on her jour- 
ney. 

At last the woeful day of her departure was at 
hand. No longer might she find excuse to tarry 
at home ; but pale and sorrowful she arose and 
dressed herself in all her splendid robes, for she 
saw well there was no other way. 

Alas ! what wonder was it that she wept, who 
was to be sent like any chattel into a strange land 
and far away from her friends ! She was going to 
the rule of a lord she had never seen ; and there are 
good husbands and bad ones, as every woman 
knows. 

“ Father,” she said as she clung round the 
Emperor's neck at parting, “ your wretched child 
Constance commends herself to you and my 
mother daily in your prayers. For I fear that 
I shall never see you again. Syria is a far coun- 
try, a barbarous land ; but I submit me to your 
will. Farewell, dear father ! ” 

And so this lady was conducted to her ship 
with great weeping and much ceremony. 


Constance 


97 

“ Now may Christ be with you all ! ” she said, 
with a pitiful attempt to smile. 

And they answered, Farewell, fair Con- 
stance ! ” 

Now the Sultan’s mother was a very wicked 
woman; and when she learned that it was her 
son’s purpose to forsake his faith and become a 
Christian, she sent for her counselors to find 
what might be done to prevent this act. 

Lords,” quoth she, ** ye all know how that 
my son is on the point of forsaking the holy 
laws of our Koran, given by that prophet of 
God, Mahomet. But, for my part, I would rather 
die than thus forsake the faith ! What good, in 
sooth, will this new religion do us ? It means 
nothing but penance upon earth, and punish- 
ment hereafter, and as for me I will have none 
of it. But if ye will listen to my plan and swear 
to follow it, I will keep our religion and our- 
selves safe forevermore.” 

Every one of them took oath to stand with 
her, and to further her project as far as he could ; 
whereupon she laid bare a very wicked scheme. 

We must all feign to become Christians,” she 
said ; a little cold water on the head will not 
hurt us. Then I will make a great feast in wel- 


Stories From Chaucer 


98 

come of the bride, and I fear it will take a whole 
font full of water to wash away the blood that 
will flow.” 

Thus saying she dismissed her council, and 
went to her son the Sultan. She told him that 
she, too, desired to accept Christianity and also to 
make a feast in honor of the bride and her 
retinue. The Sultan was delighted to find his 
mother so yielding, and told her that she might 
do everything as she desired. The evil woman 
thereupon kissed her son and went her way to 
prepare for the banquet. 

It was not long after this until the ship bear- 
ing Constance came safely to harbor in Syria. 
When the Sultan heard the welcome news, he 
sent word to his mother bidding her welcome 
the bride as she had promised. 

Great was the press, and rich was the array 
Of Syrians and Romans there that day. 

The mother of the Sultan, richly dressed. 

Clasped Constance warmly to her evil breast, 

As any mother might her daughter, best 
Beloved ; and to the city, side by side. 

An easy journey in great state they ride. 

Before they reached the city, the Sultan him- 
self rode forth to meet them, clad in his royal 
robes of state. And he greeted Constance so 


Constance 


99 


courteously that she began to take heart again. 
And thus with great pomp they rode into the 
city, where games and revelry were in order the 
whole day long. 

Then came the fateful time of the feast, and to 
it were bidden all the Princess’s company, young 
and old, for the Sultan’s mother did not want 
any to be left out. So all were present and right 
royal was the scene. But alas ! all this splendor 
was speedily to end in bitter woe. 

No sooner were they intent upon the feast 
when armed men rushed in and slew them all — 
even the Sultan ; for this wicked crone hoped 
thus to rule the country as she liked. Constance 
alone of all the company was spared, and her 
they placed upon a rudderless ship and set the 
sails, as if in mockery, toward Italy. In the ship 
they put all the dower which she had brought, 
and also food, drink and clothing ; and forth she 
sailed alone upon the salt sea. And as she sailed 
she prayed that God would protect her from the 
terrors of the deep. 

For many days Constance’s ship floated upon 
the sea, a prey to every wind and tide. On 
many a sorry meal she must now stay her hun- 
ger, and full often she prepared for death as the 
wild waves dashed her from place to place. On 


L. OF C, 


lOO Stories From Chaucer 

and on she drifted through the Sea of Greece 
and beyond the Strait of Morocco, till at last she 
came into our own wild waters of the German 
Ocean. Then a wave cast her ship ashore on 
the coast of Northumberland, and there it stuck 
fast in the sand. 

The Constable of the castle hard by saw the 
wreck and hastened down to learn if there might 
be any person thereon. And when he had sought 
throughout the ship he came upon poor terrified 
Constance, hiding behind the bags of gold which 
had served her so little and which she had come 
to despise. Then she besought the Constable in 
her own language that he would have mercy 
upon her and slay her and thus deliver her from 
her many woes. 

The Constable understood a little Latin and 
could follow what she said. But he had pity on 
her and raised her up and brought her safe to 
land. When her foot touched solid ground again 
she sank upon her knees and thanked God for 
protecting her. But she would not tell who she 
was nor whence she had come, avowing that her 
long wanderings on the sea had confused her 
mind. The Constable and his wife had great 
compassion on the fair shipwrecked stranger, and 
they sheltered her at the castle. Here she was 





ON AND ON SHE SAILED. 





Constance 


101 


so quiet and industrious, and strove so to please 
people, that every one about the place came to 
love her. 

The Constable and Dame Hermengild his wife 
were pagans, like all the countryside. But Her- 
mengild loved Constance so dearly that she soon 
became converted to Christianity. 

At one time there had been other Christians 
in England, but the northern pirates had over- 
run the land, driving all the believers to seek 
refuge in Wales. Here the old Britons still wor- 
shiped the true God, but in secret and unknown 
to the rulers of the land. 

Three of these old Britons dwelt near the 
Constable’s castle, and one of them was blind. 
While the Constable, Hermengild and Constance 
were out walking on the shore, one day, they 
met this blind man, crooked and aged, stumbling 
along the path. By some strange inner vision 
he knew who they were and also that Hermen- 
gild had become a Christian. 

“ In the name of Christ,” cried this blind Briton, 
** Dame Hermengild, give me my sight again ! ” 

The lady was alarmed at these words lest her 
husband should hear and understand their pur- 
port — as indeed he did, although Constance bade 
her be bold and work the will of Christ. 


102 


Stories From Chaucer 


“ What does this mean ? ” blustered the Con- 
stable. 

“ Sir, it is Christ’s might that helps folk to 
overcome the wicked one,” answered Constance 
quietly. 

Then Hermengild took heart of faith at her 
words, and gave heed to the blind man’s cry, and 
laid her hands upon his eyes, praying earnestly. 
And the blind man’s sight came again, and he 
went away rejoicing and praising God. 

The Constable was so moved by this miracle, 
as well as by Constance’s speech, that he became 
a Christian ere nightfall — much to the joy of the 
two ladies. 

But alas ! Now must I tell a direful thing 
which Satan the evil one caused to happen. He 
made a young knight of the castle fall so madly 
in love with Constance that it seemed he could 
not live without her. But Constance paid no 
heed to him, so the young knight became crazed 
and resolved to work her harm. He crept softly 
to the room in which both Hermengild and Con- 
stance slept, and he slew Hermengild and left the 
knife by the sleeping Constance, so that all might 
think she had done the deed. 

The king of that country was Alla, and he 
chanced to be visiting the castle at that time. 


Constance 


103 


To him, the next morning, went the Constable 
with a woeful tale. He stated how he had just 
found his wife murdered in her bed, and that the 
knife had been found by the side of the Lady 
Constance. When she was awakened she could 
say no word for very grief and horror ; and he, 
the Constable, feared much against his will that 
she had done the dreadful deed. 

Then King Alla, who had never seen Constance, 
began to ask questions about her. The Constable 
told him what little he knew — how she had been 
wrecked upon their coast in a strange rudderless 
ship laden with treasure and fine clothing; and 
how that she would say no word as to her name 
and station. The King became so interested that 
he summoned a speedy trial and sat upon the 
judge’s seat himself. 


Then as a lamb which to its death is brought, 

So stood this guiltless maid before the king, 

While the false knight who had this evil wrought 
Told under oath that she had done the thing. 

But nathless there was general murmuring 
Among the people ; for they could not guess 
How one so good could do such wickedness. 

And every one in the castle testified how that 
Constance had been true and seemly, and had 


104 Stories From Chaucer 

loved Hermengild as her life. No one bore wit- 
ness against her save this wicked knight. 

Then the King had great compassion for her, 
and cast about how he might aid her. As soon 
as he heard that she was a Christian, he com- 
manded that a Bible be brought in. The knight 
was ordered to place his hand upon this book 
and swear that Constance was guilty of the 
deed. 

The knight stepped forward and laid his hand 
upon the book, but as he swore that she was 
guilty an unseen hand smote him to the earth 
so suddenly that he died before them all. 

Then a great fear fell upon the people, and 
by reason of this wonder and Constance’s media- 
tion they all came to accept Christ, from the 
King down. 

And after that the King loved Constance and 
made her his wife and queen of all the land. 

But not yet were Constance’s trials ended. 
Donegild the King’s mother was another wicked 
woman, like the Sultan’s mother had been. She 
could not brook that he should wed a woman 
whom no one knew anything about. Nathless 
she hid her anger and bided her time to work 
woe to Constance. 

In the course of time a little boy came to glad- 


Constance 105 

den the palace of the King and Queen. But 
King Alla had gone to the wars in Scotland ; so 
the Constable sent a messenger in haste to the 
King to tell him the good news of his son’s 
birth. 

This messenger, instead of riding straight forth 
upon his mission, paused on the way to acquaint 
the King’s mother with the tidings. 

** Madame,” quoth he, “ be glad and blithe, for 
the Queen hath borne a son, and I am now on 
my way to the King to bear him this letter with 
the news of it.” 

Donegild pretended to smile, and pressed the 
man to pause long enough for food and drink. 
The messenger dismounted and while he was 
fuddling his brain with wine, she stole the letter 
from him and put another in its place which 
looked like it. But this false letter said that the 
Queen had borne a son so ugly and horrible that 
no one dared remain with it in the castle ; and 
that now they ail thought the Queen was a 
wicked sorceress. 

Sad was the King when he had read this let- 
ter, but he told no man of his sorrowful news. 
Instead he wrote again with his own hand: 

‘‘ Welcome be the Lord’s will ! We must sub- 
mit ourselves to his guidance. Keep the child, 


lo6 Stories From Chaucer 

whether it be foul or fair, and also my wife until 
I return home.” 

Then with secret tears he sealed the letter and 
gave it to the messenger to take home, charging 
him to go straightway. 

But the messenger, mindful of the food and 
drink he had obtained from Donegild, paused at 
her court again on the way back. And again he 
became drunken and again was his letter stolen. 
A lying letter was put in its place commanding 
the Constable, under penalty of death, not to 
suffer the Queen and her child to abide longer in 
the country. 

“ But in the same ship as he had her found, 

Her and her young son, and treasure as before. 

He must place all, and shove the boat from land. 
And charge her never to set foot there more.” 

When the Constable had read this letter, he 
cried “ woe ! ” and “ alas ! ” and “ alackaday ! ” 
He was astonished at such a message, for he 
knew that the King had loved Constance. But 
he dared not disobey the command, so he made 
ready the ship and placed the food, drink, cloth- 
ing and treasure upon it as before. Then he led 
Constance, white of face and bearing her pretty 
little son in her arms, to the water’s edge. And 


Constance 


107 

all along the way the people burst out into loud 
weeping against this dreadful thing. 

But Constance knelt upon the strand and com- 
mended herself and her boy to the Lord who, she 
said, would do everything for the best. He 
has protected me before, and will again be my 
sail and rudder,” she said. 

Her little child lay weeping in her arm, 

And bending piteously to him she said, 

** Peace, little son, I will keep thee from harm ! 

And then she took her kerchief from her head, 

And over his own little eyes she laid ; 

Then in her arms she lulled him close and fast. 
While up to Heaven her meek eyes she cast. 

O little child, what is thy guilt ? ” she cried. 
“ Why will thy father banish thee before he has 
looked upon thy sweet face ? Have mercy, dear 
Constable ! Let my boy dwell here with you, 
then will I wander forth to unknown dangers 
alone and thankfully. But if you dare not dis- 
obey the King’s decree, then kiss the child once 
for the sake of his father whom he will never 
see.” 

The old Constable bent and kissed the child, 
while the great tears rolled down his rugged face. 

Constance looked backward toward the land 


io8 Stories From Chaucer 

only once and said, “ Farewell, dear pitiless hus- 
band ! ” Then she went with firm step toward 
the boat, while the whole company followed close 
upon her, sobbing aloud. When she came on 
board, she turned and blessed them with one 
hand uplifted while the other clasped her sleep- 
ing babe to her breast. 

This was their last glimpse of her as the boat 
was pushed off and the night closed in about the 
helpless wanderers. 

Soon after this, King Alla came home from the 
wars, and at once asked for his wife and child. 
The Constable felt his heart grow cold with fear, 
but told him plainly all that had occurred, and 
showed him the letter which he had received 
sealed with the King’s seal. 

“ I could not know why you should do this, 
my lord,” said the old man tremblingly, “ for 
your wife was fidelity itself and the child was fair 
to look upon.” 

“ Fair, say you ! ” exclaimed the King. “ I 
did not write the letter you hold in your hand ; 
but why did you tell me the child was horrible ? ” 

“Not I, my lord ! ” cried the Constable amazed 
in his turn. 

Then the King suspected treason. 


Constance 


109 

** Send for the messenger,” he ordered sharply. 

The messenger was brought in and plied with 
questions until he told all about his going and 
coming, and how that he had stopped at the 
queen-mother’s house each time. By this and 
that it was made plain to all, who was the guilty 
one ; and Donegild was condemned to death. 
Still this did not bring back the King’s wife and 
child, and for sorrow of their fate the King 
mourned night and day. 

Now let us turn to the Emperor of Rome, of 
whom I have not spoken for a long while. 
When news reached him of how his daughter 
had been treated in Syria, and how her retinue 
and also the Sultan had been slain by the wicked 
mother, he gathered together a great army and 
sent it under command of a Senator to lay 
waste the land. The Romans indeed took high 
vengeance for the wrong, burning and sacking 
the cities till there was scarcely left one stone 
upon another. 

The Emperor had also commanded all his navy 
and every merchant vessel to keep a lookout for 
the wandering ship, but all in vain. 

However, when the victorious Senator set sail 
again from Syria on his return to Rome, he met 


1 10 


Stories From Chaucer 


a boat far out in the Mediterranean Sea, with 
sails flapping and drifting here and there at the 
mercy of wind and tide. It was. Constance’s boat, 
sent by the mercy of Heaven through the Strait 
of Gibraltar ; but the Senator did not know her, 
the sorrows of the past few months had so 
changed her. Besides there was the little boy. 

Nathless his heart was filled with pity for them, 
and he brought them into his ship and conveyed 
them to Rome. Here he entrusted them to the 
care of his wife, and Constance found a haven of 
peace and quiet. The strange part of the story 
is that the Senator’s wife was Constance’s own 
aunt. Yet neither of them recognized the other. 

Now let us turn again to King Alla. Though 
his mother had richly deserved death and had 
been tried by the laws of the land, he became 
deeply penitent of her fate when his anger had 
cooled. He resolved to go on a pilgrimage to 
Rome to seek forgiveness of his sins. 

When the tidings of Alla’s proposed visit 
reached the Emperor, he sent the Senator forward 
to meet him and show him every honor. The 
Senator escorted him to his own house and pre- 
pared a great feast, and thereto sat down many 
lords and ladies to pay respect to Alla. 

Then Constance, who was not present at the 


Constance 


111 


board, sent her little son into the banquet-hall 
and bade him look upon the great lord at the 
head of the table. The boy did as he was told ; 
and the King, chancing to look around, gave a 
great start so that his chair nearly fell over. For 
the child was as like unto Constance as it was 
possible to be. 

“ Whose is that fair child that stands yonder ? ” 
Alla asked the Senator. 

“ I know his mother, but no one knows his 
father,” replied the Senator. And briefly he told 
what little was known about them, ending with a 
high tribute to the mother’s worth. 

Then Alla wondered secretly if this child’s 
mother could be his own wife. 

“ In sooth,” thought he, “ a phantom’s in my head ! 

It must be, by all sober reasonment. 

That in the salt sea my dear wife is dead ! ” 

But afterward he made this argument — 

“Why doubt I that Heaven hither sent 
My wife by sea, as well as once before 
Her boat was guided to my Northern shore? ” 

Then rising up hastily he prayed that the 
Senator might take him to the child’s mother. 
The Senator wondered at this, but did as he was 
requested. They begged the company to excuse 


112 


Stories From Chaucer 


them, and taking the child by the hand they 
sought Constance’s apartment. When Constance 
heard who had come, she trembled so that she 
could hardly stand upon her feet. Yet she 
bravely went into the room. 

When Alla saw his wife he called her name 
And wept, so that ’twas pitiful to see, 

For at the first look when in she came 
He knew full certainly that it was she. 

While she for sorrow stood dumb as a tree, 

So was her heart shut fast in her distress, 

When she remembered his unkindliness. 

Then Alla burst forth in sorrowful excuses. 
He called Heaven to witness that he was guilt- 
less of any of her troubles, and he told her all 
that had been done. 

Constance gave him a quick piercing look — 
then with a glad cry sprang into his arms. The 
flood-gates of her heart, long pent-up, were 
opened and she sobbed out all her past grief and 
present joy upon his shoulder ; while he kissed 
her tenderly and called her a thousand fond 
names. And, I warrant you, the little boy came 
in for his full share of loving attention. 

Now Constance had never told any one who 
she was, not even her father the Emperor. Her 


Constance 


13 


heart had been too bitter. But now that her 
husband was come she greatly desired that they 
all might be united. So she prayed King Alla 
to ask the Emperor to dinner, but to say no word 
of her. The Emperor was pleased to accept the 
invitation, and came in great state at the time 
appointed. 

Alla and Constance rode forth to meet the 
Imperial party; and when Constance saw her 
father coming, she alighted from her horse and 
knelt down in the street. 

** Father,” she said, “ your child Constance is 
clean gone from your remembrance, I wot. But 
I am she whom once you sent to Syria and who. 
was left to die upon the salt sea. Now, good 
father, I cry you mercy. Send me no more to 
heathen lands, but thank my dear husband here 
for his kindness in shielding me.” 

Who could tell of the great joy of the Em- 
peror, or of the bliss among all three when their 
adventures were told ? I shall not try to describe 
it, or keep these good folk waiting for the dinner 
to which they had started. 

Constance’s woes were all at an end. The 
King and the Emperor pledged a lifelong friend- 
ship, and the child, who had been christened 
Maurice, grew up to become Emperor in his 


1 14 Stories From Chaucer 

turn. You will find his life told in the history 
of Rome. 

After a long visit in Italy, Alla and Constance 
returned to England where they reigned with 
justice, having the love of all their subjects to 
their lives’ end. 


Here endeth the tale of the Man of Law. 


Zbc ^ife of Batb’0 ^alc 

A WOMAN’S WISH 





PROLOGUE 


O UR Host stood up in his stirrups at the 
conclusion of this tale. 

“ By my faith/’ quoth he, ** that was 
a thrifty story ! ” (Meaning by this, it had 
pleased him mightily.) “ Every one of you 
must agree with my opinion.” 

We all made haste to say the same. 

Now let us see who can tell us as good an 
one,” continued the Host looking around. But 
the day is getting well spent, so we must needs 
have a short tale and a merry one.” 

Just then he espied the fat contented face of 
the Wife of Bath, and so he asked her for the 
next. 

That worthy dame was so pleased at being 
allowed to talk that, instead of her story, she 
launched into her entire past history and that of 
the five husbands she had married — and buried, 
one after another. 

The Friar laughed heartily at this long pre- 
amble — for which our Host took him to task. 

117 


1 1 8 Prologue 

** Peace ! ” cried he. ** Let the good woman 
tell her tale in her own way. Proceed, dame." 

** All ready, sir," she replied somewhat nettled, 
if I have license of this worthy Friar." 

Yes, dame,” quoth he bowing his apology; 
** tell forth and I shall listen." 

So she began afresh. 

Here begin neth the tale of the Wife of Bath. 


A Woman’s Wish 


I N the old days of King Arthur, whom good 
British folk delight to honor, all this land 
was filled with fairies. The elf-queen 
with her jolly company danced full often in 
many a green meadow. But this was many 
hundred years ago, and nobody has been able 
to see them of late. For the friars have driven 
them away, with their holy blessing of halls and 
chambers, kitchens and bowers, cities, castles, 
barns, ships and dairies. Everything has had 
the spell removed, so that now where once 
walked the elves, the priest himself goes, saying 
his matins. 

But back in the days of good King Arthur, 
that I am telling you about, it so befel upon a 
day that a brave knight of the court came riding 
along by a river. He was in sore trouble, for 
he was in disgrace and banishment. He had 
sinned grievously against the laws of chivalry of 
the Round Table, and King Arthur had con- 
demned him to die. But the Queen and her 
119 


120 


Stories From Chaucer 


ladies, who liked him well, had prayed the King 
to pardon him. The King granted him his life, 
and turned him over to the Queen to pronounce 
what sentence seemed good to her. 

Then the Queen called the Knight before her 
and said, “ You stand yet in peril of your life. 
Sir Knight, and it is not certain that your head 
will remain upon your shoulders. But I will 
give you grace if you will answer a riddle for 
me : What is it that a woman wishes for, most 
of all ? If you cannot answer this at once, I will 
give you a year and a day to seek it out. But 
if you fail to answer, your life shall be forfeit.” 

And that is why the Knight was so sorrowful 
as he rode by the brink of the river. He had 
taken his leave resolved to make the most of his 
year’s quest, and at the last to come again with 
such answer as heaven might teach him. 

Far and wide he sought in every place and in 
every house ; and always his question was the 
same. What is it that women love best ? But 
never could he find two with the same answer. 

Some said that women love riches best ; others, 
fame ; others, amusement ; and others, fine 
clothes. Some said that they liked to be 
flattered and pleased ; others said that they 
wanted to be free to do as they wished. Some 


A Woman’s Wish 


121 


said that they liked to be thought wise and 
discreet in all things ; and others said that they 
desired to be considered steadfast and reliable in 
all things, especially in the keeping of a secret. 

Concerning this last, the story of Midas which 
Ovid tells about, is well known. Midas wore his 
hair extra long, because he had the misfortune 
to have ass's ears, which he always kept carefully 
hid. Nobody knew of this affliction save his wife, 
whom he loved and trusted fully. He prayed 
her that she should tell no creature, and this 
she swore to obey. However, her thoughts 
dwelt upon those long ears so constantly that 
she felt she must tell her secret to something. 
So she ran to the edge of a stream and kneeling 
down whispered it to the water. “ My husband 
has two long ass’s ears ! ” she said. ‘*Now is my 
heart whole again, since it is relieved of its 
burden.” But for the rest of this tale you must 
read Ovid. My tale concerns the sorrowful 
Knight and his quest. 

Finally the day rolled around when he must 
return to the court ; and he was in despair, for 
among all the conflicting answers he had re- 
ceived, none of them seemed the one that would 
save his head. 

As he rode along, he came to a forest side, 


122 


Stories From Chaucer 


where he saw four and twenty ladies dancing to- 
gether. Toward the merry party he turned, 
hoping that from them he should learn the wise 
thing he so sorely needed. But ere he reached 
the spot the dancers vanished, and he saw no 
living creature save an old woman. An uglier 
hag he could scarcely imagine, as she sat there 
under a tree. 

When the Knight approached she rose up and 
said : “ Sir Knight, your way does not lie hither. 
Tell me what you seek, and mayhap I can aid 
you, for we old folk are exceeding wise.” 

“ Mother,” he replied, “ you may be the very 
one to aid me. I am as good as dead if I cannot 
find what it is that a woman wishes for, most of 
all. If you can tell me, I would requite you 
well.” 

** Then give me your hand,” she answered, 
** and promise me faithfully you will do the next 
thing I ask of you ; and I will tell you the an- 
swer you seek ere nightfall.” 

“ Have here my troth. I will do what you 
say,” replied the Knight. 

Then your life is safe,” said the hag, for I 
dare promise that none of them, from the Queen 
to her lowliest maid, will gainsay the answer I 
shall teach you.” 


A Woman's Wish 


123 

With that she whispered in his ear and bade 
him be of good cheer, and went along with him 
to the court. 

When they had reached there, the Knight 
sought an audience with the Queen, saying that 
as this was his last day of grace, his answer was 
ready as he had promised. 

The news of the Knight’s return caused a great 
stir in the castle, for every one knew of the riddle 
and how he had gone forth to solve it, upon peril 
of his life. Ladies, high and low, lost no time 
in assembling about the Queen when she gave 
audience to the Knight. The Queen sat as 
Chief Justice, and after she had commanded 
silence, she asked again in a clear voice : 

** Now can you tell us. Sir Knight, what it is 
that a woman wishes for, most of all? ” 

Then the Knight came forward and knelt down 
at the foot of the throne and answered in a manly 
voice, so that all the court heard him : 

** My liege lady, the thing that woman wishes 
for most of all, is to have the headship of the 
house, and make her husband obey her will." 

And when they all heard this answer, there was 
not one in all the court, whether wife, widow or 
maid who durst gainsay him. “ He is worthy to 
have his life,” they said smilingly ; and the Queen 


124 Stories From Chaucer 

greatly pleased with the clever answer was noth- 
ing loth to give him his freedom. 

But with that word up started the old hag who 
had come with the Knight and had lurked in hid- 
ing till he should give his answer. 

“ Mercy, my sovereign lady ! ” she cried. 

Mercy and justice ! It was I taught that answer 
to the Knight; and in return he gave me his 
word to do the first thing that I should ask of 
him. 

“Before the court, then, Sir Knight,” she con- 
tinued, turning to him with a horrid leer upon 
her wrinkled face, “ I demand that you receive 
me as your wife.” 

“ Alas, and well-a-day ! ” the Knight answered 
ruefully. “ I freely admit that I made you this 
promise. But for the love of heaven spare me 
this ! Take all my goods, but leave me my lib- 
erty.” 

“ Nay,” quoth she, “ though I be old and poor 
and ugly, yet for all the riches in the world I 
would not forego being your wife and winning 
your love.” 

“ My love ! ” he retorted, “ truly you must take 
me for a very fool ! ” 

Indeed it must be said that the Knight was 
more blunt than courteous in this speech ; but he 


A Woman’s Wish 


125 


had sore provocation as he stood there in sight of 
all the court faced by this ancient crone. It 
seemed to him that this were worse than losing 
his head. 

Meanwhile the Queen and her ladies were 
greatly amused by this scene, though they could 
not help being secretly sorry for the Knight. 
However, the Queen told the Knight that there 
was nothing for it but to keep his plighted word. 
So the Knight with a wry face accepted the old 
woman as his wife. 

Now you may call me a careless story-teller if 
I fail to tell you all about the wedding feast and 
array. But sooth to say there was no feast at all. 
The Knight wedded the hag as secretly as he 
could, and then hid himself all day long like an 
owl. He could not bear so much as the sight of 
his hideous wife. 

The old woman meanwhile held her peace un- 
til they were alone, that evening, when she turned 
to him smiling and asked : “ Come, dear husband, 
is this the spirit in which a knight of King Ar- 
thur's court keeps his word ? Wherein lies my 
wrong-doing ? Tell me, and I will strive to 
amend my ways to please you." 

“ Amend ! " groaned the Knight. “ An age 
and a face like yours cannot be amended." 


126 Stories From Chaucer 

** Ah, is that all your trouble ? ” she asked still 
smiling. 

« Is it not enough ? ” he returned. 

Nay in good sooth," she said gently. 
‘‘ Beauty is but skin deep, and the heart is ever 
young. It is conduct that counts above rank 
and family ; and he who deals the gentlest with 
others, that one is the gentlest born." 

Thereupon she took him quietly to task for his 
rudeness, and withal talked so wisely and so well 
that the Knight was amazed. He began to feel 
more kindly toward her, and to be ashamed of 
himself. Finally she told him it was ofttimes bet- 
ter to have an ugly but obedient wife, than to 
choose one for her pretty face who had no wifely 
qualities to back it. 

“ Choose now for yourself," she added ear- 
nestly. Would you prefer to have me old and 
ugly until I die, but true and faithful always and 
never displeasing you in anything ? Or do you 
wish me young and fair — and mayhap vain and 
frivolous ? " 

The nobler nature of the Knight was struck 
with this appeal. The winning charm of her wis- 
dom drew him to her irresistibly. 

“ My lady, my love, and dear wife," he said, 


A Woman’s Wish 127 

« choose for me. I put myself in your guidance, 
for I know that you will not choose wrong.” 

“ Then I am to have the mastery over my hus- 
band, as the riddle said ? ” she asked laughing. 

“ Yes, truly,” he answered, ‘T know it will be 
best.” 

“Then kiss me, dear,” quoth she, “and 
be not wroth. 

For by my troth I will be, to you, both. 

That is to say, both fair and good I’ll be. 

And pray to God to guard me faithfully. 

And I will also be both good and true, 

As ever wife since that the world was new. 

And if by morrow’s sun I am not seen 

As fair as any empress, maid or queen 

Who lives between the bounds of East and West — 

Do with me as you will. This is my test.” 

And the Knight accepted her challenge ; and 
forgetting her wrinkled face he stooped and drew 
her to him and kissed her on the lips. And 
behold ! As he did so she was transformed into 
a beautiful maiden — the fairest that his eyes had 
ever rested upon. For she was a fairy who had 
taken this means of trying his knightly honor. 

There is little need to tell of his joy at this sur- 
prise, or of the model wife this lady made him. 
Henceforth they lived together in peace and hap- 


128 


Stories From Chaucer 


piness ; and in all the land no better mated pair 
might be seen. But whether she continued to 
rule the house, or left the lordship to Kim, the 
chronicle does not say. 


Here endeth the Wife’s Tale, of Bath. 


Zhc friar's tTale 


THE WICKED SUMMONER 


1 

I 

I 


\ 


J 

i 



PROLOGUE 


LL the while that the Wife of Bath was 



telling her tale, the Friar had been re- 


garding the Summoner with a sour face ; 


and though he had as yet said nothing to pro- 
voke a quarrel, it was very plain that there was 
no love lost between them. For they looked 
upon each other as rivals, and while the Friar 
might only beg alms in behalf of the Church, the 
Summoner often used threats to obtain his gifts. 

** Dame,'^ quoth the Friar, when the Wife had 
ended, “God give you good life! Your story 
was worth waiting for. And now if it be agree- 
able to this company. I’ll tell you a good one at 
the expense of a Summoner.” 

The Summoner lowered back at him, and the 
Landlord to prevent a quarrel said, “Tut, tut. 
Friar ! A man of your estate should be more 
courteous. In company we will have no per- 
sonal debate.” 

“ Nay, let him say what he will,” retorted the 
Summoner surlily, “ for I’ll get even with him ! ” 




132 


Prologue 

But our Host answered, Peace, no more of 
this ! Tell forth your tale. Sir Friar.” 

So the Friar, nothing abashed, began to tell 
forth what was in his mind. 


Here beginneth the Friar’s Tale. 


The Wicked Summoner 


O NCE upon a time, in my country, there 
dwelt an archdeacon — a man of high 
degree, yet stern and strict against all 
evil-doers. He punished all sorts of sin from 
petty theft and slander up to witchcraft and 
perjury. But it was whispered of him that those 
who had money ready in hand could escape with 
much lighter punishment than the rest. 

He had a Summoner in his employ who was 
one of the slyest fellows in all England. He 
would spy upon people in secret to catch them 
in some peccadillo ; then he would threaten them 
with the heaviest punishments of the Church if 
they did not pay him handsomely. I speak thus 
plainly about the whole bad lot of them, because 
we Friars are out of their power. 

[*‘ So are other abandoned wretches ! ” cried 
the Summoner hotly. 

Peace ! Bad luck to you ! ” said our Host ; 
‘*and letjiim tell his tale.”] 

This false thief — this Summoner — at last 


133 


134 


Stories From Chaucer 


learned the haunts of ail the wicked people 
and he kept them pretty well under his thumb 
He never told his master of half the places he 
visited, but he managed to line his own pockets 
on every occcision. At times he would even 
summon innocent people ; and when he found a 
person too poor to buy him off, the Summoner 
would bring him up before the court and have 
the archdeacon punish him. But others who 
bribed him he would suffer to escape. This was 
all very wicked, but although he got rich he had 
to pay for his evil-doing, as you shall presently 
see. 

It so befel that on a day, the Summoner, who 
was ever on the lookout for his victims, rode 
forth to summon a widow, a poor harmless old 
soul with a cracked voice; and as he rode he 
was busily thinking up some charge to bribe her 
about. 

It happened that he saw before him ride 

A yeoman gay beneath the forest-side. 

A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen. 

He wore a cloak of gaily colored green. 

A black-fringed hat upon his head was set. 

" Hail ! ” cried our fellow ; “ hail, sir, and well met ! *’ 

« Welcome ! ” said the yeoman, ** and the same 


The Wicked Summoner 


^35 

to every good fellow. Whither go you in the 
greenwood to-day ? ” 

“ I ride not far,” the Summoner made answer. 
“ Here hard by I purpose to call upon one of 
my lord’s tenants and collect some rent which is 
past due.” 

“ Are you a bailiff then ? ” asked the other. 

The Summoner was ashamed to say what his 
real occupation was, so he answered, “ Yes.” 

“ Good ! ” said the yeoman. You are a 
bailiff and I am another. Let us be comrades. 
I am unknown in this part of the country, but if 
you will make me acquainted and do me a good 
turn, I have both silver and gold in my chest at 
home which I will share with you.” 

Gramercy, you are the fellow for me, and 
here’s my hand on it ! ” cried the greedy Sum- 
moner. And forth they fared together on the 
way. 

The Summoner was always anxious to find out 
all he could about people, so he presently began 
asking his new friend questions. 

Brother,” quoth he, ** where do you live ? 
I shall be glad to call on you some day soon.” 

The yeoman answered him with soft speech : 

Brother, you cannot miss the place. It is in 
the north country where I hope some day to see 


136 Stories From Chaucer 

you. Ere we part company I’ll tell you how to 
get there." 

“ Now, brother," continued the Summoner, 
“ I pray you teach me some of the tricks of the 
trade, while we ride on our way. For I perceive 
that you are a sly bailiff and know how to get 
the money. How can / do it ? " 

Now by my troth," replied the other, ** I will 
be frank with you, but my wages are very small. 
My lord is hard on me and mine office is a labo- 
rious one. So I have to resort to extortion to 
make any money. I take anything that men will 
give me, either by craft or violence. And that’s 
the whole truth of the matter." 

“ Now certes,” cried this Summoner, “ so do I ! 

I never spare to take a thing, God wot, 

Unless it be too heavy or too hot. 

When I can gain by plotting secretly. 

No scruples in the matter trouble me. 

Without extortion I could never thrive, 

So of my jests no churchman me will shrive. 

Stomach nor conscience truly have I none ; 

I hate these shriving fathers every one. 

Well are we met — our ways are just the same — 

But tell me, brother dear, what is your name ? ’* 

The yeoman began to smile. 

** Are you sure you want to know ? " quoth he. 


The Wicked Summoner 137 

“ Then, in plain speech, I am a fiend and my dwell- 
ing is in hell. I am riding up and down in the 
world to see what people will give me of their 
own free wills. And I will ride to the world’s 
end to get my lawful prey.” 

“ Heaven help us ! ” cried the Summoner at 
this confession. “ I thought you were really a 
yeoman. You have the, same human shape I 
have. Down in the under world do you look like 
this ? ” 

** No, certainly,” said the fiend, ** there we 
have no distinct form, but take what shape we 
will. Sometimes 1 am like a man, and again like 
an ape. Sometimes I appear like an angel. It 
is not so wonderful, because your ordinary jug- 
glers can deceive you ; and have I not more craft 
than they ? ” 

“ Why, then, do you go in several shapes, in- 
stead of only one ? ” asked the Summoner. 

“We assume such form as will help us best to 
catch our prey,” replied the evil one with a cun- 
ning grin in his direction. 

The Summoner, however, never suspected that 
he was the one that was being chased. He was 
too busy asking questions. 

“ Why do you take all this trouble ? ” was his 
next. 


138 Stories From Chaucer 

“ For a good many reasons, Sir Summoner,” 
replied the fiend. “ But everything in its time. 
The day is well spent and I have caught nothing 
yet; so Fll turn my attention to business, if you 
don’t mind, and keep these secrets till another 
time.” 

But tell me,” insisted the Summoner, ** how 
you manage to make yourself new bodies out of 
the same elements ? ” 

“ You will find out for yourself soon enough ! ” 
said the evil one with hidden menace in his voice. 

But the warning had no effect upon the Sum- 
moner. He was too intently thinking about the 
chest of silver and gold which the other had in 
his dwelling. 

“ Nay,” he said, ** come what will, you and I 
are sworn brothers. I don’t care who you are — 
devil or angel or plain yeoman like myself — so 
long as we share and share alike.” 

“ I grant it, by my faith,” replied the fiend. 
And with that they continued on their way. 

Presently they came upon the outskirts of the 
town toward which the Summoner was directing 
his steps. There in the road they saw a cart 
heavily loaded with hay. The road had deep 
ruts in it, and the cart stuck fast. The carter 
smote his horses and cried like mad, 


The Wicked Summoner 139 

“ Get up, Brock ! Hey, Scot ! Go on, I say ! 
The fiend take you body and bones — and the cart 
and hay with you ! ” 

The Summoner turned quickly to his compan- 
ion. 

“ Do you hear what the carter says ? he 
whispered. “ Here are some good pickings for 
us ! He has given you the horses, cart and hay 
—all ! ” 

** Nay,” answered the evil one, ** trust me, he 
doesn’t mean a word of what he is saying. Ask 
him yourself, or wait a bit and see for yourself.’* 

Just then, beneath the carter’s swearing and 
beating, the horses bent their backs and began to 
pull the load out of the rut. 

Ah, bless you, good fellows ! ” cried the 
carter. May the saints keep you from harm ! ’* 

** There, brother, what did I tell you ? ” said the 
fiend. ** This fellow said one thing and meant 
another. Let us go on ; we will get nothing 
here.” 

With that they went a little way farther into 
the town. Then they paused before a tumble- 
down cottage, and the Summoner said to the 
fiend, 

** Here’s the place for us ! An old beldame 
lives within, who would sooner lose her head 


140 


Stories From Chaucer 


than give up a penny of her goods. But I mean 
to have twelve pence out of her, or else summon 
her before the court. And yet I know no harm 
of her. But if you want to know how to get 
money out of people, willy-nilly, take a lesson 
from me ! ” 

With this the Summoner knocked loudly upon 
the widow’s door. 

‘‘ Come out, old virago ! ” he shouted, I know 
you are up to some mischief.” 

“ Who knocks ? ” asked the widow. “ God 
save you, sir, what is your will ? ” 

“ I have a summons against you. See that you 
answer it in person before the archdeacon, to- 
morrow, under pain of being cursed for your 
sins.” 

‘‘ God help me ! ” answered the poor old 
woman. “ I have been sick for many a day, and 
it would kill me to ride so far. Will you not 
give me a copy of this summons, so that I can 
get some one else to vouch for me? ” 

“ Yes,” said the Summoner, “ pay me — let’s 
see — twelve pence, and I will let you off. I 
shall not make much profit out of that, for it goes 
to my master. Come — give me twelve pence in 
^ hurry ! I can’t wait all day.” 

f* Twelve pence ! ” cried the widow ; “ now may 



"ALAS!" SHE WAILED, "I HAVE DONE NO EVIL! 






The Wicked Summoner 141 

the saints help me ! You know that I am poor 
and old, and I haven’t half that sum between me 
and starvation ! ” 

“ Nay, then,” he exclaimed in a rage, “ may 
the foul fiend carry me off, if I excuse you from 
paying this money ! ” 

Alas ! ” she wailed, I have done no evil ! ” 

“ Pay me ! ” he said, “ or I shall carry off your 
new pan too. You know you owe me that for 
paying your fine the last time.” 

“ You lie,” said the widow. I was never 
summoned to your court before in all my life. 
May the evil one, to whom you commended 
yourself a moment agone, carry you off and my 
pan too, for thus tormenting a helpless old 
woman ! ” 

And when the fiend heard her curse the Sum- 
moner upon her knees, he came forward and 
asked : Now, good mother, are you in earnest 

when you say that ? ” 

“ May the devil fetch him, pan and all, if he 
doesn’t repent I ” she said solemnly. 

“ Repent ! ” exclaimed the Summoner with a 
sneer. Nay, old hag, I never have repented of 
anything, and don’t mean to begin now. I 
would like to take the very rags off your back ! ” 

“ Well, brother,” said the fiend, with a wicked 


Stories From Chaucer 


142 

grin, ** I think by your speech as well as this 
widow’s, that you and this pan belong to me of 
right. So you shall go to the lower world with 
me this very night, where, I warrant, you will 
soon find out more about our mysteries than a 
doctor of divinity.” 

And with that the fiend seized him, clapped 
the new pan soundly against his back, and carried 
him off, body and soul, to the place where so 
many summoners have their heritage. 

May the one who is in our present company 
take warning from this fate, and repent of his 
misdeeds before the fiend carries him away ! 


Here endeth the Friar’s Tale. 


Zhc Clerft’s Zalc 

PATIENT GRISELDA 


4 



PROLOGUE 


** Sir Clerk of Oxenford,” our Host then said, 

** You ride as shy and quiet as a maid 
Who newly wedded sits beside the board ; 

All day I have not heard you speak a word. 

I trow you’re bent upon some studying, 

But Solomon says, ' there’s time for everything ’ 
And so I pray you be of better cheer. 

It is not time for your deep studies here. 

Tell us a story, and certes do not preach. 

But give us good plain words within our reach.” 

The worthy Clerk made answer with a smile, 

** Good Host, I must obey you for the while. 

Since that you are our governor and guide : 

I’ll tell a tale which cannot be denied. 

’Twas learned at Padua, of a worthy clerk, 

As proved by words as well as all his work. 

He now is dead and fastened in his chest ; 

I pray to God to give his spirit rest. 

Francis Petrarch, the poet laureate. 

This was his name, and high was his estate 
In letters ; for his flowing poetry 
So sweet did light up all his Italy. 

** But this the tale just as he told it me, 

I’ll try to tell it truly unto ye.” 

Here beginneth the Tale of the Clerk of 
Oxenford. 

I4S 


( 

j 

4 


Patient Griselda 


T here is, on the western side of Italy, 
over against Mount Viso, a teeming 
plain well watered and fertile where you 
may behold full many a tower and town ; and this 
noble country of delight is called Saluzzo. A 
Marquis was one time lord over all this land, a 
man who was greatly beloved by the people, both 
lords and commoners, because of his many 
virtues. Besides, he was the gentlest born of any 
in Lombardy — handsome, young, strong, and full 
of honor and courtesy. He was likewise discreet 
enough — save in a few things — and his name was 
Walter. 

I speak blame of him only because of his care- 
less ways. He thought too much of his own 
pleasure, and went hunting and hawking instead 
of attending to the more serious cares of state. 
And he would not marry a wife and settle down, 
which was a sore point in his people's eyes. 

They at last decided to take him kindly to 
task and let him see how they looked upon his 

147 


148 Stories From Chaucer 

habits. So on a day they went in a great crowd 
to his audience room ; and the wisest of them all, 
who acted as spokesman, said : 

“ O noble Marquis, your humanity gives us 
courage to come before you and tell you the 
thing that is troubling our hearts. And deign 
not, lord, to be angry with us for you have 
always shown us favor and grace, and we love 
you, every one. 

“ For, certes, we could not devise a way in 
which we might live together in greater harmony, 
save in one thing. We pray you to take unto 
yourself a wife, for then our hearts would be at 
rest." 

The old man then spoke very sweetly of the 
joys of wedded life, and how no man ought to 
neglect that “ blissful yoke " simply because he 
was in the flower of youth and wished to live un- 
fettered. Old age creeps on apace," he said, 
and it is far better to establish a home in good 
season, so that in time of old age or sickness 
there should be some one who loved you to take 
care of you. Then, too, the joy of seeing chil- 
dren growing up in your likeness is not to be 
gainsaid. And the birth of a son and heir to the 
lands of the Marquis," the old man concluded, 
“ would be the happiest of events to us all, as 


Patient Griselda 


149 

it would prevent the country from passing into 
the hands of strangers.” 

In his eagerness the old man even suggested 
that the Marquis allow them to choose a wife for 
him from the noblest and fairest families. But 
at this Walter only smiled. 

Howbeit his heart was touched by this appeal 
of his people, and he answered quite frankly, 
“ You know very well, my dear people, how much 
I enjoy my own liberty and doing my own way, 
I do not want a wife, but I will defer to your 
wishes and the good of the state. And so I 
promise to get married without delay. But 
pray don’t trouble to choose a wife for me, as I 
much prefer to choose for myself! 

“ Also I must insist that you pay the fullest 
respect and reverence to the lady I shall choose, 
as though she were an emperor’s daughter. I 
am doing so much for you that you must do this 
much for me, and abide by my choice in the 
matter.” 

This they promised heartily ; but they prayed 
him to set a day for the wedding — so great was 
their dread lest he put it off too long. 

The Marquis good-naturedly agreed to this, 
and instructed his squires and knights to make 
ready a fitting entertainment against that day. 


150 Stories From Chaucer 

Then the people thanked him on their knees, 
and went back home greatly pleased with the 
success of their petition. 

Now not far from the palace of the Marquis 
there was a village where dwelt the humble folk 
who led out their cattle and sheep to graze in 
the fields, and who tilled the soil. 

The poorest of all these poor people was a 
man named Janicula, for he could put all his 
goods into an ox’s stall. But he was rich in 
having a daughter Griselda who was fair to see, 
and as good as she was fair. 

For tho’ this maiden was of tender age, 

Yet in her girlish heart was purity, 

And strength and ever patient, true courage. 

With loving care and tender charity 
Her poor old father ever fostered she. 

Some sheep, while spinning in the field, she kept, 
For never was she idle till she slept. 


And when at nightfall they would homeward fare, 
Some herbs and roots she’d gather on the way 
To brew for supper at their table bare. 

Ere seeking her hard bed. Thus, day by day. 
She earned her father’s bread ; and so I say 
In every obedience and diligence 
This child was first in filial reverence. 


Patient Griselda 151 

Now as the poor Griselda went about her daily- 
task she had no idea that any one was watching 
her conduct. But the Marquis Walter had often 
noticed her tending her flocks and spinning busily 
at the same time, while he was out hunting. 
And as often as^ he saw her he was filled with 
admiration for her, and he esteemed her more 
highly than the greatest lady in the land. This 
shepherd girl, thought he to himself, would make 
an ideal wife if one ever should marry. 

But the Marquis Walter kept his counsel to 
himself ; and so the day set for the wedding 
came around and nobody knew who the lady 
was to be. And they wondered about it and 
said one to another, Will our lord not wed 
anybody after all ? ” 

Nathless, Walter had been very busy gather- 
ing together gems and gold and beautiful robes 
for the mysterious bride ; while every token 
about the palace — hurrying squires, decorations, 
fine foods and wines — showed that the Marquis 
would keep his word. 

At last the great day arrived. The palace 
was ablaze with bright streamers without and 
gorgeous hangings within. All the guests had 
arrived from far and near ; and still there was no 
hint of the bride ! 


152 Stories From Chaucer 

Then to the sound of music the Marquis came 
forth richly attired, with many lords and ladies 
in his company ; and in this state he bade them 
follow him to the humble village where lived 
Griselda and her father. 

Now Griselda knew nothing of all these plans 
and had not suspected that the Marquis, if he 
ever saw her, had thought of her a second time. 
She had gone that morning to fetch water from 
a well and had hastened home again, as it was 
told her that this was the lord’s wedding-day and 
if she hurried she might see the company ride 
by. 

“ I will stand with the other maidens,” she 
thought, “ and perchance catch a glimpse of the 
new Marchioness. Then I will hasten to catch 
up with my work.” 

But just as she reached her door, whom 
should she see but the Marquis himself, looking 
like a King in his beautiful robes. He called her 
name gently, and she dropped her pail and fell 
on her knees before him waiting for him to 
speak. 

Griselda,” he said, “ where is your father ? ” 

“ Here at hand, my lord,” she answered 
tremblingly. And at a sign from him she went 
within and presently returned with Janicula. 


Patient Griselda 


153 

Then Walter took the old man by the hand 
and said, “ Janicula, I can no longer hide from 
you the wish that is in my heart. If you will 
grant it me, I will take your daughter to be my 
wife. You love me — that I know — and are my 
faithful follower. Now will you consent to have 
me for your son-in-law ? ” 

This sudden offer so astonished the poor man 
that he grew red and his knees quaked together. 

My lord,” he stammered, “ your wish is law. 
It is not for me to gainsay it.” 

“ Then I desire to meet her and you in your 
room,” said the Marquis softly, “ so that I can 
ask her if she will be my wife and obey me in 
all things. All this shall be agreed to in your 
presence, and no contract entered into behind 
your back.” 

And while they were in the room, the Mar- 
quis’s company drew near and halted before the 
humble dwelling. They marveled to see how 
neat it was kept and how carefully she had tended 
her father. But poor Griselda was quite pale. 
She had never seen so grand a company before. 

Walter noticed her agitation and showed his 
true courtesy. In those days it was customary 
for a ruler merely to make known his wishes, and 
every one was expected to obey him. But Wal- 


154 Stories From Chaucer 

ter treated Griselda as though she were a great 
lady, and first asked her father’s, then her own 
consent. 

Griselda,” he said, “ you must understand that 
your father is willing for me to marry you ; and I 
suppose you also are not unwilling. But I must ask 
you first — since it is being done in such a hurry — 
will you consent, or no ? If you consent it must 
be with good heart. And you must promise to 
obey me in all things, whether I am kind to you 
or not ; never to sulk night or day ; never say 
‘ no ’ when I say ‘ yes/ or say ‘ yes ’ when I 
say < no ’ — either by word or frown. Swear this, 
if you consent, and I will swear to wed you.” 

Wondering at all this and trembling with fear 
Griselda answered, “ My lord, I am quite unwor- 
thy of the great honor you offer me. But I will 
willingly obey your commands, and I swear to do 
as you would like to have me do — even to giv- 
ing up my life, though I do not want to die.” 

“ It is enough, my Griselda,” he replied. And 
taking her by the hand he led her to the door 
and presented her to the people. 

** This is my wife,” he said with quiet dignity. 
‘‘ I call on all of you who love me to love and 
honor her.” 

And in order that she might proceed to the 


Patient Griselda 


155 


palace in fitting style, he ordered his ladies to 
bring forward the royal robes he had prepared 
and put them upon her. Some of the ladies did 
not like to handle the poor garments she wore ; 
but nathless they led her into the room, and 
dressed her in the fine garments from head to 
foot. They combed and dressed her hair and 
placed a crown upon it, and fastened costly jewels 
upon her. 

When she came forth again the people fairly 
gasped with astonishment. She seemed the most 
beautiful creature they had ever gazed upon. Her 
fairness was almost dazzling in all this rich attire. 

The Marquis also was delighted. He placed a 
costly ring on her finger, and set her upon a snow- 
white horse. Then she was conducted to the 
palace amid great rejoicings, and there were revels 
and feasting the whole day long in honor of the 
bride. 

In short the new Marchioness was so favored 
of heaven, that you would never have guessed she 
was of humble birth and had spent her life in a 
sheep-cote and ox-stall. She was so well be- 
haved that she might well have been born to the 
purple. The people who had known her from 
childhood could hardly believe it was Janicula’s 
daughter. 


156 Stories From Chaucer 

And though she had always been modest and 
kindly, she now added to these a gentle dignity 
and winning manner so that everybody who saw 
her loved her ; and people traveled for miles just 
to look upon her face. 

Thus was Walter royally wedded after all. For 
he had not only obtained a worthy helpmeet, he 
had also won the people s confidence in his pru- 
dence and judgment. And Griselda, by reason 
of her humble origin, was enabled to redress many 
wrongs of the people and lighten their lot ; so 
that there was peace and harmony throughout all 
the land. 

You may believe, there was great joy in the 
palace and among the people when in course of 
time a little girl was born to Walter and Griselda. 
The child was fair to see, and the happiness of 
the mother knew no bounds. But in this time 
of general rejoicing an evil thought came to Wal- 
ter. He wanted to tempt his wife and find if she 
were as obedient to his will as she had promised 
to be before marriage — and in fact until now. 
Needless, God wot, that he should do this. 

For he had tested her enough before 
And found her ever good. What needed it 


Patient Griselda 


>57 


To tempt her thus and always more and more ? 

Tho’ some men praise it for a subtle wit, 

I call it evil and, forsooth, unfit 

To try a wife thus, when there is no need. 

And put her mind in anguish and in dread. 

Nathless, Walter did in this manner. He came 
to her one evening and said with a stern face, 

Griselda, I suppose you have not forgotten the 
day I lifted you from your poor estate ; nor have 
you forgotten the words which we uttered then. 
You have been very dear to me, but unfortunately 
my people do not look upon you with favor. 
They say it is a disgrace to be subject to one of 
such humble birth. And since your daughter 
was born they have complained so much that I 
cannot disregard them. So I must deal with 
your child as seems best, for the good of the 
country. Still, what I do is greatly against my 
will, and I cannot do it without your consent. 
But, I pray you to remember your promise to me 
and show yourself patient and submissive.” 

Griselda heard him out without showing by 
word or look how keenly his words smote her. 
Then when he was through, “ My lord,” she said, 
“ it is all subject to your pleasure. Both I and 
my child are yours to do with as seems good to 
you. Have then your will with us for good or 


158 Stories From Chaucer 

ill ; but for my part nothing counts except the 
love of you.” 

This noble, self-sacrificing speech should have 
ended the Marquis’s test. Indeed he was 
secretly overjoyed to hear her speak thus, but he 
would not desist from his purpose. He left her 
room with the same look of sternness. 

Then he sent for a trusted private servant — a 
sergeant who would obey him in all things and 
tell nothing — and Walter told him just how he 
should act, and sent him to Griselda’s room. 

Into the room he stalked, looking very fierce, 
and said, “ Madam, I pray you to pardon me, 
if I simply obey my lord’s commands. I am in- 
structed to take this child away from you ” 

Here the brutal looking man snatched up the 
sleeping baby from its cradle, and made as 
though he would slay it then and there. Poor 
Griselda felt her blood running cold yet she gave 
no sign of resistance. She only asked the ser- 
geant, very gently, if she might kiss her child 
once before it died. Taking it in her arms she 
lulled it and fondled it in a heart-breaking way, 
saying, 

“ Farewell, my child ! I shall never see you 
again — never hold you in my arms again, or kiss 
you, as I do now. Farewell, my baby ! I mark 


Patient Griselda 


159 

you with this cross, and commend you to the 
dear Heavenly Father’s care.” 

Then placing the child again in the sergeant's 
hands, “ Go now,” quoth she, “ and do my lord’s 
will. But one boon I pray of you. Bury this little 
body in some place where the birds and beasts 
cannot harm it.” 

But the sergeant would not promise her even 
that, but took the child roughly and went his 
way. 

When he was come again to the Marquis he 
gave him the child unharmed and told him all 
that Griselda had said. Walter’s heart was 
touched, but still he would not turn from his 
plan. He bade the sergeant wrap the child care- 
fully and take it to his sister, the Countess of 
Panik in Bologna, and request her to rear it ten- 
derly for his sake. But whose child it was, the 
sergeant was straitly charged to tell no man. 

After her baby was thus torn from her, 
Walter watched Griselda narrowly to see if there 
was any change in her demeanor. But always 
she was the same patient Griselda, kind and lov- 
ing and tender and thoughtful as before. She 
never once mentioned her lost child, whom she 
believed to be dead, but her quietly sad look 
must have been hard for Walter to bear. 


iCo Stories From Chaucer 

Thus the months passed until four years had 
rolled around, and once more there was great re- 
joicing in all the land. For another child had been 
born in the palace, and this time it was a boy — one 
who could inherit the land and title of his father the 
Marquis. The people’s delight knew no bounds, 
and Walter also felt as happy as any king ; for 
this beautiful boy was the equal of any prince 
that ever lived. 

But when the child was two years old, the 
Marquis took it into his head to tempt his wife 
still farther. Ah ! how needless to torture her 
thus ! But married men are often overbearing 
when they find a patient wife. 

“ Griselda,” quoth the Marquis, “ you remem- 
ber I told you once before about the people’s 
discontent at our marriage. Since my son’s 
birth their anger has been even greater, and I 
scarcely know which way to turn for peace. 
They say that when I am gone, a descendant of 
Janicula the herdsman will be lord over them. I 
cannot disregard their complaint ; and so I have 
decided to put this boy away privately, as I did 
his sister. But do not give way openly to your 
grief. Be patient and control yourself, I pray 
you.” 

** My lord,” she answered, “ I have always said, 


Patient Griselda 


i6i 


and ever shall say, that I wish no thing save as 
you choose. Naught grieves me, though both 
my daughter and my son be slain. I will tell 
people with a smile that I never had any chil- 
dren. You are our lord. Do with your own as 
seems best to you. Ask no leave of me ; for as I 
brought nothing when I came to you — not even 
the garments on my back — I left behind mine 
own will and liberty and took your habits. 
Wherefore, I pray you, do your pleasure and I 
will strive to be submissive.” 

And then she added this touching appeal. 

“ If I could only know beforehand what your 
will was, I would do it gladly ! And if your 
people find me in the way, I will willingly 
die to please you. Death means nothing to 
me in comparison with the loss of your love ! ” 

When the Marquis saw this new proof of his 
wife's constancy he cast down his eyes and won- 
dered how she could endure it all. He went 
forth with very dreary countenance, but in 
reality he was well pleased with her. 

Then he chose the same ugly sergeant who 
had taken her daughter away ; and he came and 
seized the boy with great show of roughness. 
And as before she sat as though graven out of 
stone and made no outcry of the heaviness that 


i 62 


Stories From Chaucer 


was within her heart. Only as she kissed her 
son a tender farewell, she prayed the sergeant 
that he would lay the child carefully in some 
grave to keep him from the wild beasts. 

And again he made no answer, but carried the 
child carefully to Bologna where it was sheltered 
and nourished with its sister who was now a well 
grown little girl. 

The Marquis was amazed at her patience, for 
he knew that, next to himself, she loved her 
children better than anything in the world. In- 
deed, what could a husband ask more than such 
steadfastness as this ? But there are some people 
who, when they start upon a thing, will stick to 
it as though they were bound to a stake. So 
this Marquis made up his mind to tempt his wife 
still farther. 

He watched to see if by word or look she 
might betray a weakened courage, but never 
could he find any change in her. The older she 
grew, the more faithful she seemed. There was 
but one will between them, and no quarrel or 
frown ever disturbed the peace of their wedded life. 

But if Griselda was the soul of submissiveness, 
Walter’s subjects were far from being so. In- 
stead of complaining about Griselda, as he had 
said, they were devoted to her service. And 


Patient Griselda 


163 

when they saw how cruelly he had treated her, 
the slander against him spread far and wide. 
For everybody believed that the two children 
had been murdered by his commands; and a 
murderer is a hateful name. 

I ought to say here, in plea for Walter, that 
the children of rulers were often sent away 
privately to be brought up, lest some harm 
should befall them. The Marquis was within 
his own rights when he did this, but it was 
cruelly wrong thus to deceive and torture his 
poor wife. 

Nathless, in spite of the people's murmurs he 
persisted in his course ; and presently, when his 
daughter was twelve years old, he devised an- 
other unkind deed. He sent to Rome and pro- 
cured some false letters, seeming to come from 
the Pope, but really being forged. These letters, 
or bulls,” commanded him to leave his wife, for 
the sake of the people, and to marry another 
nearer his own rank. 

The people were easily deceived by these false 
bulls, but when the news came to Griselda she 
was exceeding heavy of heart ; for she loved 
Walter better than any one in the world, and 
that he well knew. But still she uttered no word 
of complaint. 


164 Stories From Chaucer 

Then he sent his trusty messenger to the Earl 
of Panik, at Bologna, and begged him to bring 
the two children home openly and in honorable 
estate ; but still to keep it secret whose children 
they were. Instead he was to say that the little 
maid was later to be the wife of the Marquis of 
Saluzzo. 

The Earl did as he was asked, and soon set 
forth from Bologna to Saluzzo in royal state 
with a gallant company of lords and knights ; 
and in their van rode the little boy and the 
maiden, now well grown and beautiful to look 
upon. 

Arrayed for marriage was this maiden fair, 

With robes of silk and gems and jewels rare. 

Her brother, gallant lad of seven years. 

Sat well his horse, as any of his peers. 

And thus with splendor and with rich array 
The lordly cavalcade rode on its way. 

Now turn we from all this bright scene of joy 
to poor, patient Griselda, about to be put to the 
severest proof of her courage. One day in open 
audience the Marquis said in a boisterous way : 

** Certes, Griselda, I was content enough at 
one time to have you for my wife — not for your 
birth and lineage, but because you were truthful, 
steadfast and obedient. But I have found out 


Patient Griselda 


165 

that high station brings its own service and 
duties ; and so I may not do as any common 
plowman — listen only to the voice of mine own 
desires. Instead, I must do as my people say, 
and take another wife in order to keep peace in 
my country. Even the Pope has commanded 
this, and, to be brief, my new wife is even now 
on her way hither. 

“ But be strong of heart ! Give up your place 
to her without a murmur and thus show once 
again your patience. And you may take back 
to your humble home the dower which you 
brought to me; for thus Fortune deals with 
some — lifting them up only to cast them down 
again.” 

Griselda’s reply to this was so noble that I 
must try to tell you exactly what she said. 

And then she answered him in patience, 

“ My lord,” quoth she, “ I have known well alway 
That ’twixt your splendor and magnificence 
And mine own poverty no one can say 
There is comparison ; and day by day 
I ne’er have held me worthy in my life 
To be your servant — or, much less, your wife. 

And in this house where I a lady came — 

The high God take my word in true witness. 

Who has so wisely kept my soul from blame — 


i66 


Stories From Chaucer 


I never thought me wife or e’en mistress. 

But humble servant to your worthiness, 

And ever shall while my life may endure. 
Above every other worldly creature. 

“ That you so long out of your courtesy 
Have held me thus in honor day by day, 
Whereas I was not worthy for to be, 

I thank both God and you, to whom I pray 
That he requite you — more I cannot say. 

Unto my father gladly will I wend, 

And with him dwell until my life’s last end. 

** There was I fostered as an infant small. 

There till I die I count my earthly home, 

A widow clean in heart and spirit all. 

For since I gave to you my youth and bloom. 
And am your true wife, it would ill become 
That such a great lord’s wife should ever take 
Another husband, for her honor’s sake. 

And to your new wife may God of his grace 
Grant every weal and true prosperity. 

For I will gladly yield to her my place, 

Altho’ it has been blissful unto me. 

But since it pleases you, my lord,” quoth she,' 
Who ever have been dearest to my heart — 
That I shall go, content I will depart. 

*' But since you offer me the dower again 
That first I brought, it still is in my mind — 
My wretched clothes was all I had — so plain. 
So coarse and ragged they’d be hard to find. 
But O just God ! how gentle and how kind 


Patient Griselda 


167 


You seemed, in spite of them, that day 
You came and took me from my home away ! 

** You said you loved me, but alas ! ’tis true 
That saying old — it now is shown to me — 

Love’s not the same when old as when ’twas new. 

^ But truly, lord, in my adversity 
I’ll love you still, till death and faithfully. 

And ne’er in word or deed shall I repent 
That I gave you my heart with true intent. 

** My lord, you know that in my father’s place 
You bade me leave my garments poor and old. 
And clad me richly out of all your grace. 

To you I brought naught else — the story’s told — 
Save youth and love and hopes, ah, manifold ! 
And here again my clothing I restore. 

And e’en my wedding-ring forevermore. 

** The remnant of your jewels ready be 
Within your chamber. I can safely say. 

Naked from my father’s house,” quoth she, 

1 came, and naked turn again to-day ; 

In all things heed your will — glad to obey. 

But yet I hope it is not your intent 

To send me forth quite stript ! You must relent 

** To leaving me one gown ; tho’ old and poor, 

’Twill serve my need upon my liomeward way. 
For such a dress in poverty I wore. 

Do not refuse this little boon, I pray. 

For your own honor’s sake, and mine : you may 
Remember still, my lord and husband dear, 

I was your wife, tho’ all unworthy were.” 


i68 


Stories From Chaucer 


This piteous appeal for one poor garment to 
clothe her upon her homeward way so touched 
the Marquis that he could scarcely speak. Yet, 
he thought, the pitiful little play must be carried 
through to the end. 

“ The gown that you have on your back,#’ he 
said in a dry voice, “ let it remain, and wear it 
away with you.” 

And then he turned away abruptly, unable to 
say another word. 

Before all the people, Griselda took off all her 
fine apparel, her gems and her laces. She even 
took the pins out of her hair and the shoes off 
her feet. And out of the palace gate she walked, 
humbly yet proudly, bare of foot and with her 
beautiful hair falling about her shoulders ; out of 
the city and toward her father’s humble roof. 

After her followed many of the people weeping 
for very pity and murmuring angrily against her 
hard fate. But her own eyes were dry and she 
spoke no word more. 

Her father had already heard something of how 
things had been going at the palace, and was 
not surprised to see her returning. For he had 
greatly distrusted this unequal marriage and 
feared that the Marquis would become wearied of 
it and seek to set it aside. 





SHE WALKED HUMBLY YET PROUDLY 




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Patient Griselda 169 

Hastening forth to meet her, he took her into 
his arms and comforted her. Then with all the 
thoughtfulness of a woman he brought the old 
dress she had formerly worn — ah, sadly aged and 
tattered now ! — and tenderly placed it upon her. 

“We have each other, still, my daughter,” he 
said simply. 

A id so for a certain space she dwelt with her 
father as of old, tending the flocks, carrying wood 
and water, and living steadfastly and quietly as 
though the palace had been a dream of the 
morning blown away like the mist. 

Truly, men speak of the patience of Job; but 
though they praise women little enough, no man 
can equal them in patience or fidelity ! 

And now we turn again to the Earl of Panik 
on his way to Bologna. As he neared the city 
with his splendid cavalcade the fame of his mis- 
sion spread far and near. People heard of the 
new Marchioness who was being brought with 
such pomp and display, the like of which had 
never been seen before in Lombardy. 

The Marquis, who had planned all this before- 
hand, sent for Griselda again before the company 
had arrived. 

“ Griselda,” he said, “ my will is that the 


lyo Stories From Chaucer 

maiden I shall wed be received as royally as pos- 
sible. I have no servant who is able to arrange 
the rooms to my liking — who shows the taste 
and skill about the house thatj/cfu have. Now 
will you take this matter in hand for me? You 
know all my ways and taste, and I am willing to 
overlook the fact that your dress is very ragged.” 

“ I am glad to do it, my lord,” she said, smil- 
ing. ** Your service is my dearest joy.” 

And with that word she ’gan the house to deck, 

The tables for to set, the beds to make. 

And scrubbed the floors free from all stain and speck. 
Praying the chamber-maids for goodness’ sake 
To hasten them, and sweep and shake ; 

While she, the most industrious of all. 

Hath every room arrayed, and stair and hall. 

About noontime the company arrived. The 
Earl alighted and helped the two unknown 
children to dismount. All the people ran to see 
the procession, and when they beheld the beauti- 
ful maiden they began to whisper that, after all, 
the Marquis was no fool to exchange an old 
wife for a new one ! For she was even fairer 
than Griselda — not unlike her, perhaps, but of 
tenderer age. While the rosy boy standing be- 
side her divided all their admiration. 

Griselda had been busy up to the very mo- 


Patient Griselda 


171 


ment of their arrival. She was not abashed 
at her clothing though it was rough and coarse 
and somewhat ragged besides. But with cheer- 
ful face she paused long enough to go to the 
gate with the other people to greet the bride; 
then she hurried back to her work. 

When they came within, she received every 
one of the Marquis’s guests so courteously that 
none could find fault with her manner. Indeed 
the newcomers wondered who this woman might 
be, clad in such poor array yet with the grace 
and dignity of a queen. 

The Marquis offered his arm to the fair 
stranger and, with his other hand, led her brother 
forward; and thus the three went ahead of all 
the great lords and ladies to the banquet hall. 
When all were seated around the table, the 
Marquis called for Griselda who was busy with 
the serving. 

** Griselda,” quoth he as if in play, ** how do 
you like the looks of my new wife ? ” 

Right well, my lord,” she answered quietly ; 
** I pray God to give her happiness. And I pray 
you, my lord, to deal very gently with her — 
never to goad or torment her, for she has been 
tenderly reared and could not endure sorrow like 
one of humbler birth.” 


172 Stories From Chaucer 

And when Walter saw all her patience and 
cheerfulness and lack of malice, despite all his 
cruel tests, his heart failed him utterly and he 
chided himself bitterly for bringing all this suf- 
fering upon her. 

It is enough, my beloved Griselda ! ” cried 
he, springing to his feet. “ Be fearful no longer 
of my whims, for I have tried you as no other 
woman was ever tried before. In rags and riches 
alike, dear wife, I know your steadfastness ! ” 

And clasping her in his arms he kissed her 
tenderly. 

But she for wonder could not understand it all. 
She acted as though she were walking in her 
sleep and heard him not. 

Griselda ! " he entreated, “ look at me ! It 
has all been a cruel jest, my dear, from first to 
last. You are my wife, and always have been 
and always will be ! " 

A glad light broke over Griselda’s face, but in 
a moment she turned to look at the maiden. 

** Ah, Griselda ! ” said Walter, “ do you not 
know her ? She is your daughter, and the lad 
by her side is your son. I sent them secretly to 
Bologna to be brought up, but now I restore 
them again to you. And all the people who 
have been saying dark things about me must 


Patient Griselda 173 

know that I have done nothing in wickedness 
and nothing in malice, but everything to prove 
your glorious womanhood and patience to all the 
world ! 

When she heard this she fell swooning to the 
floor for very joy ; and then as she recovered she 
called both her children to her, and clasped them 
in her arms, weeping piteously and kissing them 
and bathing them with her tears. 

O what a pitiful thing it was to see her emo- 
tion ! To hear her trembling voice thanking 
Walter for saving her children ! 

** I can die here and now, my lord,” she said, 
** since they and your love have been given back 
to me.” 

Then she swooned again for very joy, but still 
clasping her children in her arms, and so tightly 
that the company could scarcely loosen her 
fingers. I warrant you that many a tear ran 
down the faces of those who stood round about ! 

Then Walter took her into his arms and 
consoled her again, and afterward he gave her 
into the charge of the court ladies. And they 
took her to her room and stripped off the coarse 
garments, once for all, and dressed her in cloth 
of gold. Upon her head they placed a crown 
set with many a sparkling gem. Radiant as any 


174 


Stories From Chaucer 


queen she looked when they led her back to the 
banquet hall and placed her at the head of the 
table. And all the company delighted to do her 
honor. 

Thus hath this piteous day a blissful end, 

For every man and woman do their might 
This day in revelry and mirth to spend, 

Till o’er the sky is seen the stars’ pale light. 

More joyous was this feast in all men’s sight. 

And richer far — and there was more to pay — 

Than was the revel on her wedding-day. 

Here endeth the Clerk of Oxenford his Tale. 


Zhc ifranftnn’s tTalc 

$ 

DORIGEN 


4 


< . .» 


f 





PROLOGUE 


T he Clerk’s tale was ended amid many 
ohs ! and ahs ! from the company, who 
had crowded close about his steed dur- 
ing the recital. Much pleasure was found therein, 
though the Wife of Bath was seen to sniff openly. 
Others wanted to hear more of the story. 

“ Good faith ! ” quoth the Clerk, ‘i the story is 
at an end ; yet, if you will, the patient Griselda 
lived with her husband for many a year in high 
prosperity and peace and concord. Her old fa- 
ther was given a place at court — as should have 
been done long before ; her daughter married 
well ; and her son succeeded to the Marquisate. 
Is that enough ? ” 

“ How about the moral ? ” asked the Wife of 
Bath. 

“ The story is told,” answered the Clerk 
roguishly, ‘‘not in the hope that other wives 
will be as patient as Griselda, for that will never 
happen again! But the moral is that every 
wight should be constant in adversity. Such 
was the idea of old Petrarch when he told it.” 

177 


178 Prologue 

Then I, Chaucer, breaking in for the first time, 
could not forbear to add my word : 

/'Griselda is dead, with all her patience. 

Both buried in one grave in Italy, 

So I beseech in open audience 
No wedded man be foolish to assail 
His own wife’s patience in the hope to see 
Another Grisel, — for he’ll surely fail! ” 

“ Well said, and enough said,” quoth our Host 
laughing. “ Peace be to Griselda’s ashes ! Now 
then. Sir Franklin, let us see what tale you can 
offer us.” 

“ Gladly, Sir Host,” quoth he, ** I will obey 
your will as far as my wits will allow.” 

Here beginneth the Franklin’s Tale. 


Dorigen 

I N ancient times there lived in Brittany a 
Knight named Arviragus who was brave 
and strong and chivalrous. This Knight 
had long loved a lady, but could not win her at 
once. She admired him secretly, but she wanted 
to be sure that he was all he seemed to be. So 
she sent him on dangerous quests — as was the 
custom in those days — and in every way tested 
his devotion and courage. Then as she saw that 
he was indeed brave and honorable she gave him 
her hand and all her heart with it. 

This lady’s name was Dorigen and she seemed 
well worthy of his love, for she was one of the 
fairest maidens under the sun, and as well be- 
haved as she was beautiful. 

Arviragus was so overjoyed at winning her, 
that he promised of his own free will he would 
never antagonize her or do anything she didn’t 
want done ; but would ever obey her and yield 
every point to her, 

Save that the name of sovereignty ; 

This would he keep, for shame of his degree. 

179 


l8o Stories From Chaucer 

Truly a self-sacrificing Knight was this, and 
far different from Griselda’s husband ! 

The generous offer touched Dorigen, so that 
she thanked him with full great humbleness, say- 
ing : “ Sir, out of your gentleness you offer me 

too great authority. But I will be your humble, 
true wife as long as life shall last.” 

And so they were wedded and began their life 
together very happily ; for those who would 
dwell in harmony must yield the one to the 
other. 


Love will not be held by tyranny. 

Love is a thing as any spirit free ; 

When mastery comes, the god of Love anon 
Beats swift his wings, and farewell ! — he is gone ! 


For women of spirit desire liberty, and not to 
be held like a slave ; and so do men, if I speak 
the truth. And he that is patient and consider- 
ate will always be successful, where others of 
sterner mold fail. 

Arviragiis took his wife Dorigen to his country 
seat in Brittany, called Penmark, and there they 
lived a year and more. But the Knight had al- 
ways been a man of war, and even this blissful 
wedded life could not keep him from becoming 


restless. He wished to go to England to seek 
service in arms and perchance win fame and 
honor. Dorigen thought he had fought enough, 
but would not say him nay, when she saw how 
his heart was set on the journey. So he sailed 
away and was gone two whole years. 

Now Dorigen had come to love her husband 
so dearly, that she mourned his absence until she 
fell sick from grieving. Everything else in the 
world she set at naught, although her friends did 
all in their power to cheer her up. They lectured 
her upon the folly of giving way to her grief, and 
provided many amusements to overcome her 
heaviness of spirit. 

You know how a sculptor can keep on chisel- 
ing until he gets a figure cut into the stone. In 
the same way Dorigen's friends after a while 
made some impression on her heart, and she be- 
gan to be her former self. Also Arviragus sent 
letters saying he would soon be home again. 

Now her castle stood hard by the sea, and 
often she would walk with her friends along the 
shore. And as she saw many a ship and barge 
come sailing by, it seemed to add to her weight 
of woe. 

“ Alas ! ” she said full oft to herself, is there 
no ship, among so many that I see, will bring my 


i 82 


Stories From Chaucer 


lord home again ? Then were my heart all clean 
of its bitter pain.’* 

At another time she would sit and think and 
cast her eyes downward over the brink of the 
cliff ; for the coast thereabout was steep and 
rugged. And when she saw the bleak grisly 
rocks showing their jagged edges above the 
water, her heart would begin to quake from very 
fear lest her husband’s ship should perish there. 
Well might she dread these rocks for they were 
among the most treacherous on the whole coast 
of Brittany. 

Then she would pray to God to remove the 
rocks as, she said, they were of no good to man- 
kind but only a constant source of danger. 

“ I know well,” she would pray humbly kneel- 
ing on the grass at the cliff’s edge, “ that wiser 
people than I argue that all things are created 
for the best, though I never can know the causes 
of them. But, dear Lord who made the wind to 
blow, protect my husband ! And if it be thy 
will, sink these rocks to the uttermost depths for 
his sake ! ” 

This would she say with many a piteous tear. 
Her friends saw that it was no pleasure to walk 
by the sea, but only a new cause for worry. So 
they chose other ways to amuse her. They took 


Dorigen 


183 

her inland among gardens and trees and foun- 
tains. They danced and played at chess and 
other games. 

So on a day before the sun was high they went 
to a fair garden which was near at hand, and there 
they spread their feast (in our picnic fashion) and 
made them merry all the day. 

And this was on the sixth sweet day of May, 

When May had painted with his softest showers 
This garden full of lovely leaves and flowers 
And craft of man had added to the scene 
A touch of beauty glowing 'mid the green. 

Ah ! ne’er was garden in such fair array 
Since paradise from man was ta’en away ! 

The odor of the flowers, the pleasing sight 
Would cause the heart’s worst sorrow to grow light. 
So full it was of beauty and delight. 

After dinner they began to sing and dance 
upon the green carpet — all save Dorigen who 
could not forget that the one she loved best was 
not among them. 

Among the dancers was a handsome young 
squire who was better dressed, and who sang and 
danced better than any other man in the company. 
He was not only one of the best looking men 
you will ever see, but he was also young and 


184 Stories From Chaucer 

strong and rich and wise and well-beloved by all 
who knew him. So you see he is worth our ac- 
quaintance. His name was Aurelius. 

This squire had long loved Dorigen, but he 
had kept the secret carefully hidden, so that not 
even she suspected it. Only in his songs would 
he pour his heart out, and then he said nothing 
save in general complaint that he was doomed to 
love all his life and never be loved in return. He 
made many songs in this strain and yet the pure- 
hearted Dorigen did not suspect him. 

But on this fair May day during the revels, 
Aurelius found opportunity to have speech with 
her alone. He had known her of long time and 
been her neighbor, and was a man of worship 
and honor, so no one gave a second glance in 
their direction. Then as they walked apart, 
Aurelius could no longer hide his love. 

“ Madame,” quoth he, “ by the heaven above 
us, I wish that when your Arviragus went over the 
sea, I had gone also and never come back 
again ! For well I know you do not care for 
me, and the sorrow of it is breaking my heart. 
Forgive me for this speech, but for love of you 
who are another man’s wife, I fear I shall die ! ” 

Dorigen looked at him quickly with startled 
eyes. 


Dorigen 185 

“ Is this your will ? " she said gently, but with 
sorrow in her voice. “ I never once thought this 
of you, Aurelius. Now you must banish such 
evil thoughts, for never could I leave my husband 
for any man, not even for you. This is my final 
word, and I pray you never to speak thus again.” 

Then seeing that Aurelius was utterly cast 
down and could not say a word for grief, she 
added as if in play, 

“ Aurelius, I will love you best of all, upon the 
day when you remove all those cruel rocks we 
see at the edge of the cliff. When you have 
made the coast clear so that any boat or ship may 
sail by without danger, then will I love you best 
of any man.” 

“ Is there no other grace in you ? ” he asked 
sadly. 

None, by the Lord who made me,” she re- 
plied. 

Woe was in Aurelius’ heart when he heard 
this. “ Madame, this task is impossible ! I must 
soon die,” he said. 

Then came other friertds of Dorigen, who knew 
nothing of this matter, to make her take part in 
certain of their games. And all made merry save 
only Aurelius who went home with a heavy 
heart. 


i86 


Stories From Chaucer 


Aurelius was so sad indeed that he fell sick of 
grieving. He prayed a wicked prayer not only 
to God but to all the heathen gods, that they 
should cause so high a tide that all the rocks 
would vanish away. Thus would Dorigen’s jest 
become a binding promise. 

For a long time he lay as if in a trance, 
telling his trouble to no one except his brother. 
This brother was a student of books, or a clerk, 
as such learned men were then called. And he 
was very sorry for Aurelius and cast about to see 
how he might help him to get well again. 

Meanwhile, Arviragus had come home from the 
wars in great honor. You may believe that Dor- 
igen was glad to welcome him, for there had al- 
ways been the most perfect trust and harmony 
between them. The whole countryside turned 
out in feasting and rejoicing over his return, save 
only Aurelius who lay sick and his brother who 
read his dusty books night and day. 

At last this brother chanced to remember a 
book of magic which he had first seen in Orleans. 
This book had told of many curious tricks of 
conjuring and juggling, and how they might be 
performed so as to fool people. And as soon as 
he thought of it, his heart was filled with joy, and 
thus he whispered to himself : 


Dorigen 187 

“ My brother shall be made well again full 
speedily, for I am sure that there are sciences 
which can make things appear to be what they are 
not — ^such as the tricks which cunning magicians 
play. For ofttimes I have heard of jugglers per- 
forming in a hall who have seemed to bring a 
lake therein and have rowed up and down in a 
boat. Sometimes a fierce lion will appear ; some- 
times a meadow filled with flowers, or a clustering 
vine, or a stone castle. Then at their word it 
will all vanish again. Now, I believe, if I go 
back to Orleans I can find that book, or some 
magician who can make the rocks disappear from 
the coast of Brittany for a day or two. That will 
be long enough to heal my brother of his woe.” 

To make a long story short, he went and told 
Aurelius what was in his mind ; and Aurelius was 
so delighted that he sprang out of bed at once 
and made ready to go with his brother to Orleans. 
So the two lost no time in starting thither. 

When they had come almost to that city — 
within two or three furlongs — they met a young 
clerk roaming by himself, who greeted them in 
Latin saying to their great wonder, “ I know the 
cause of your coming.” 

And ere they went any farther he told them all 
that was in their minds. 


i88 


Stories From Chaucer 


Down from his horse sprang Aurelius and 
went with this magician — for such he had proved 
himself to be. And before supper time, in his 
home, the magician showed the two brothers 
many marvelous things. Forests and parks full 
of wild deer, they saw ; and hounds slaying them 
by the hundreds, while other harts were wounded 
by arrows. And when the wild deer were seen 
no longer, hunters appeared upon a river bearing 
falcons which pounced upon herons and slew 
them. Then they saw knights jousting upon a 
plain ; and after that Aurelius thought he beheld 
his lady in a dance, and he danced with her 
until the master of magic clapped his hands, 
when farewell ! the revel was at an end ! ^ 

And yet they never stirred out of the house, 
while they saw all this strange sight, but stayed 
in his study as still as any of his books, and 
there was no one else there besides the three. 

Then came a squire to summon them to sup- 
per — which they were glad to find was no make- 
believe ! And at the table they began to talk 
about their mission, for they were confident this 

* These tricks of magic, which were undoubtedly done by 
the ancient masters, have been explained in our own day by 
hypnotism, which in India and even in America has created 
illusions quite as wonderful. 


Dorigen 1 89 

magician could remove the rocks from the entire 
coast as easily as he could do the other wonder- 
ful things they had seen. 

So Aurelius asked the magician how much 
money he would require to perform the feat, and 
the magician swore that he would not undertake 
it at all for less than a thousand pounds. 

“ Fie upon a thousand pounds ! ” cried Au- 
relius gladly; “this round world and all that’s in 
it I would give you willingly — if I had it ! But 
see that you lose no time in the matter.” 

The magician agreed ; and after a good night’s 
rest, all three of them set out for the coast of 
Brittany. It was the bleak month of December, 
when the frost and sleet and snow had destroyed 
every green thing. Indeed it was not very pleas- 
ant weather to be out of doors, but Aurelius paid 
scant heed to that. He did not let the magi- 
cian once get out of his sight ; and although he 
feasted him with cheer in his own home in 
Brittany, the magician was warned to lose no 
time in beginning his task. 

The magician became so afraid of this young 
man, who waved his sword at the least word, that 
he began to work night and day with his books 
and spells, to make everybody think the rocks 
had sunk out of sight. At last the trick was 


190 Stories From Chaucer 

done ! There stood the coast as free and clear 
from rocks (so they thought) as though rocks 
had never been placed there in the creating of 
the- world ! 

Aurelius was overjoyed. He cast himself at 
the magician’s feet and thanked him humbly; 
then he hastened to the Lady Dorigen to tell 
her the news. 

“ My sovereign lady,” quoth this dreadful man, 
“ you know right well what your word was to 
me, and upon what day you promised to love me 
best. That day has come, although I be all un- 
worthy, for I have done as you commanded me. 
Come and see for yourself! It rests with you 
whether I live or die ; but as for the rocks — they 
have vanished I ” 

He bowed low and took his leave. Poor Dori- 
gen stood as though turned to stone. Every 
drop of blood left her face and she became pale 
as death. She had never thought to fall into 
such a trap. 

Alas ! ” she cried, “ that ever this thing should 
come to pass I It is against all nature and rea- 
son ! ” 

She did not want to leave her husband ; and 
in her grief and terror she tried in vain to find 
some way to escape from her rash promise. Her 


Dorigen 


191 

husband was away from home at the time, and 
she had almost resolved to kill herself, but she 
could not summon the courage. For three days 
and nights she was the prey of bitter despair. 

Then Arviragus came home again, and seeing 
her grief he asked her why she wept so sore. 
And at this she began to weep all the more. 

“ Alas ! ” quoth she, “ that ever I was born ! 

Thus have I said, and even have I sworn ” — 

And told him all that is set forth before, 

So there’s no need to tell it any more. 

Then Arviragus gave still farther proof of his 
nobility. Taking her gently by the hand he 
asked kindly, “ Is there aught else, Dorigen, but 
this ? ” 

Nay, nay,” quoth she, “ God help me if there 
is ! 


“ That were too much — if it were but his will ! ” 

“ Yea, wife,” he said, “ what has been, must be still. 
It may be right, perchance, for on this day 
You shall preserve your promise, by my fay ; 

For God in mercy deal thus unto me. 

And I had rather die in misery. 

For very love which I have borne for you, 

Than you should break your word or promise true! 
Truth is the highest thing that man may keep ” — 
But with that word he choked and 'gan to weep. 


192 


Stories From Chaucer 


Presently Arviragus mastered his grief and be- 
gan to speak again to his sobbing wife. He 
reminded her of the promise he had made her, 
of his own free will, at the time of their marriage, 
to respect her wishes in all things. 

“ I will not stand in your way now, Dorigen,” 
he added. You have made a foolish promise, 
but it is a promise all the same, and must be 
kept.” 

Then he raised her up, and called a squire and 
a maid, and bade them go with Dorigen to the 
house of Aurelius. They bowed and took their 
leave, but without knowing anything farther of 
the matter. 

But the little group had gone only as far as 
the centre of the town, when Aurelius chanced 
to meet them. He saluted her joyfully and asked 
her whither she was going. And she answered 
half as though she were crazed, 

“ To meet you, as my husband bids me, and to 
keep my promise — alas, alas ! ” 

Then for the first time Aurelius began to 
realize the great wrong he was doing both husband 
and wife in seeking to part them. He began to 
ponder over it, and his heart was filled with great 
compassion. He saw how selfish he had been, 
and his true nobleness of nature again came to 


Dorigen 1 93 

the surface. Never, he thought, could he con- 
sent to deal so wretchedly and churlishly against 
knightly courtesy and honor. 

Madame,” quoth he bowing low and lifting 
her hand to his lips, “ say to your lord Ar- 
viragus, 

" That since I see all his great nobleness 
To you, and also your own dire distress, 

I would far rather suffer every woe 
Than cut apart the love between you two. 

# And so, madame, I give into your hand 

Release of every promise, every bond 
That you have made at any time to me. 

I give my word to let the matter be. 

Farewell, madame, — the truest and best wife 
That ever yet I knew in all my life ! ” 

Thus did Aurelius take his leave, and prove 
that a squire could do as gentle a deed as any 
knight. While as for Dorigen, she fell upon her 
knees and thanked him, and then went joyfully 
back to her husband to tell him all that had been 
said and done. 

I do not need to tell of his joy or of their bliss 
and content ; for they lived in peace and perfect 
understanding ever after. 

But I must speak a few words more about 
Aurelius. 


194 


Stories From Chaucer 


The young squire did not regret his noble 
deed ; but when he began to count the cost of 
his folly, he cursed the day that ever he was borru 
“ Alas ! ” quoth he, “ that ever I should have 
promised to pay a thousand pounds in gold to 
this magician ! It will beggar me ! I must sell 
all my heritage and move away from my kindred, 
lest I shame them with my poverty. But I will 
do it rather than go bade upon my word.” 

Then he gathered all his ready money together 
and took it to the magician. There was not 
more than five hundred pounds — for money in 
those days, as you must know, was of far greater 
value than it is now. He gave him all this 
money and asked him as a favor to grant a little 
time for the settling of the rest of the debt. 

“ Master,” said Aurelius, “ I never yet have 
failed to keep my word, and I shall certainly re- 
quite you every penny though it leaves me 
stripped to the skin. But will you grant me two 
or three years’ respite on the balance ? I will pay 
it, if I have to sell my heritage to do so.” 

The magician soberly answered : “ Did I not 

keep my covenant with you ? ” 

“ Yes, truly,” said Aurelius. 

“ Have you not won the lady thereby?” con- 
tinued the magician. 


Dorigen 


195 


“ No, no ! ” quoth he sorrowfully. 

“ What was the cause ? Tell me if you can." 

Thus urged, Aurelius told all the story. How 
that the lady had given her promise only in jest 
and never dreaming such a miracle could happen. 
How that her lord had insisted that as she had 
given her word, she should keep it. And how he, 
Aurelius, seeing their mutual distress at being 
parted, could not bring himself to accept such a 
sacrifice. 

“ And just as freely as he sent her to me, as 
freely sent I her to him again. There is nothing 
more to be said about it," Aurelius ended. 

** Aye but there is more to be said, brother," 
said the magician smiling and holding out his 
hand. 

“ Each of you did honorably by the other. 

You are but a squire, while he’s a knight, 

But God forbid, if in his awful might, 

A clerk like me should ever be outdone 
In gentleness by ye or any one ! 

Sir, I you quit of every golden pound. 

As though I’d made them grow out of the ground ; 
Nor never will a penny of it take. 

I count myself well paid for honor’s sake.” 

And bidding Aurelius farewell the magician 
mounted his horse and rode away. 


196 Stories From Chaucer 

Lordings, this question would I ask now of 
you (said the Franklin as he thus brought his 
tale to a close) — 

Which of the four was the most generous, 
think you ? 

Now tell me that, ere ye yet farther wend : 

I say no more, my tale is at an end. 


Here is ended the Franklin’s Tale. 


Cbaucer'0 ZTale 

GAMELYN 






I 


I 


i 


.1 . ■ 

•* > * 



*1 ."" j f i"'4.i'' ' / m; ■.iv.LiV^'’'''['l *. '? ‘i>..‘ 


* <1 


’iJ 





PROLOGUE 


O UR Host looked around him to see 
whom to call upon for the next story, 
and his eye happened to light upon me, 
Chaucer, riding along just behind the leaders of 
the party and busily trying to remember all that 
had been said. 

Come, my good sir ! " he said with a chuckle ; 
we have time for one more story to-day, so let it 
be a merry one. Why are you always staring at 
the ground, as though you would catch a rabbit 
running along? Look up, man I And give him 
place, all the rest of you ! For all his sober sides, 
ril warrant he has as good round stomach as I 
have. So tell us a tale of mirth, since that so 
many of the others have had their say.” 

“ Host,” I replied, somewhat at a loss — for I 
had been so engaged with listening to the others 
that I had forgotten I also might be called upon ; 
“ Host, you will be ill repaid, I fear, for I cannot 
think of a good tale on the spur of the moment. 
But here is a rhyme I heard long ago.” 

Forthwith I began a rhyme about a certain 
Knight called Sir Topas, but I had not given 
199 


200 


Prologue 

more than a score of verses of it, when the 
Landlord broke in with, 

“ No more of this, for Heaven's sake! Now 
tell us a story / ” 

“ I can think of but one other,” I replied 
meekly. 

“ Then let us have it,” quoth he ; “ it couldn’t 
possibly be worse than this ! ” 


Here beginneth Chaucer’s tale of Gamelyn. 


Gamelyn^ 


ISTEN to me 'then, good sirs, and you 



shall hear the story of a doughty Knight 


Jl ^ — J and his three sons. The Knight’s name 
was Sir John Boundys and he was famous in 
tournaments and feats of arms. The eldest of 
his three sons was also named John, but he was 
not like his father; instead he was a deceitful 
wicked man, who deserved his father’s curse in- 
stead of blessing, and had it at last as you shall 
hear. The second son was called Ote, and the 
third. Gamely n ; and they were more dutiful to 
their father and deserved his grace. 

It came to pass that the old Knight fell sick, 
and he knew that he would never arise from his 
bed. So he fell to thinking about his three sons 
and what they should do after he was no more. 
He was not a rich man, as he had traveled a 
good deal, but he did own a parcel of land 
which he had won by his sword. 

1 This story is of doubtful origin, and is usually placed in the 
Cook’s mouth. For convenience we have here given it to 
Chaucer. 


201 


202 


Stories From Chaucer 


He therefore sent for some friends of his, 
urging them to come at once if they wanted to 
see him alive. And when they had reached his 
bedside, 

“ Sirs,” quoth he, “ death will take me soon, 
for it is God’s will.” 

The other Knights were sorry to hear him say 
this. 

“ Do not lose heart, good Sir John,” they said, 
“ for God often turns evil into good, and you 
may yet become well.” 

“ Good or ill,” he replied calmly, “ I am in 
his hands. But I have a request to make of you. 
Sir Knights, and it is that you will see to divid- 
ing my land properly among my three sons. 
Be sure not to forget my youngest boy Gamelyn, 
for when all the property is left to one person he 
doesn’t often help his brother.” 

The other Knights told him they would see to 
the matter, and they went into council over it. 
But despite his request they thought at first of 
giving it all to one. However, they finally 
agreed to divide it into two portions and let 
Gamelyn go without. They said he was too 
young to manage any of the estate ; and when 
he was of age his brothers would doubtless divide 
with him. 


Gamelyn 203 

Then they came back to Sir John and told 
him their decision, but the old Knight liked it 
not at all. 

“ By St. Martin," he said, “ the land is still 
mine to dispose of! Now, good neighbors, 
pray stand aside and let me have my own way 
in this matter. John, my eldest son shall have 
five farms, for that was all my father left me. 
Ote shall have five farms, which I won by my 
good right hand. And all the rest, land and 
stock, I bequeath to Gamelyn. Now I beseech 
you, good men, that ye see to carrying out my 
last wishes." 

Not long after that, the good Sir John 
Boundys passed away. He was no sooner laid 
to rest in his grave, than the wicked eldest son 
cheated the boy Gamelyn out of his land and his 
stock, and gave him nothing but shabby clothes 
and poor food. He let his lands go to waste, 
his houses fall to pieces, his forests be destroyed, 
and his whole estate go to rack and ruin. 

Meanwhile, Gamelyn lived in his brother’s 
house doing the most menial tasks. But de- 
spite his ill-treatment he grew taller and stronger 
day by day. 

One morning he stood in his brother’s yard, 
stroking his beard which was beginning to grow, 


204 Stories From Chaucer 

and thinking about all the evil which had be- 
fallen him since his father’s death. His lands 
were barren, his oaks were felled, his deer were 
scattered, his horses were spoiled. 

“ Truly,” thought Gamelyn to himself, “ this is 
not right at all.” 

Just then his brother John came walking by, 
and called out angrily, “ Have you got that meat 
cooked yet ? ” 

“ No,” answered Gamelyn looking him straight 
in the eye. “ I will be your cook no longer. 
If you want dinner you can go cook it your- 
self ! ” 

“ How, brother Gamelyn ! Do you know 
whom you are talking to, sirrah?” said John. 
“ You never spoke like this before.” 

“ I never thought before of all the harm you 
had done me,” answered Gamelyn. “ All my 
lands and goods are wasted. All that my father 
left me has been ruined by you, and may you 
be cursed for it ! ” 

“ Be quiet, vagabond ! ” snarled his brother. 
“ You should be thankful that I give you food 
to eat and clothes for your back. What could 
you do with land or stock if you had them ? ” 

I am no more vagabond than you,” replied 
Gamely q wjfh spirit. “We were born of the 


Gamelyn 205 

same parents, whom I honor too much to cast 
shame upon.” 

John marveled at his younger brother’s cour- 
age, but dared not come nearer to him in his 
present mood. But he called his men and said, 
“ Go beat this boy for me, and teach him to an- 
swer me better another time.” 

Why don’t you do it ? ” asked Gamelyn. 

You are my brother, and if I’m to get a beat- 
ing, no one shall do it but you.” 

John was so filled with rage at this taunt that 
he called for his men to hurry with the cudgels. 
When Gamelyn saw them coming he looked 
about him and espied a good-sized club lying 
under the wall. Now Gamelyn was quick of 
body and light of foot, as well as having great 
strength. He seized the club and laid about him 
so fiercely, at the same time dodging all their 
blows, that he soon drove all the servants away 
like a flock of sheep. For he looked like a lion, 
and could not be restrained. 

His brother, seeing this, was frightened at him 
for the first time in his life, and he fled up into 
the loft and made the door fast. 

When Gamelyn saw that he had put the whole 
party to rout, he laughed merrily. 

Why, how now, you rascals,” he called, “ you 


2o6 


Stories From Chaucer 


were in such a hurry to begin this tussle, why do 
you quit it so soon ? I was just beginning to be 
warmed up.” 

He looked for his brother and saw him peep- 
ing out of the stable window. 

“ Come a little nearer, John,” he said softly, 
** and I will teach you a great game of cudgels ! ” 

But his crafty brother, seeing that Gamelyn 
was too strong for them, began to temporize. 

“ Throw away your cudgel, Gamelyn,” he said 
with a forced smile. “ I was just trying to make 
a man of you, and I see now that you are quite 
able to take care of yourself.” 

“ Come down from the loft then,” said Game- 
lyn, throwing away the club, “ and if you will 
grant me what I ask, we will get along all right 
together.” 

Down came the false brother from the loft, 
and skid, “ What is it, brother Gamelyn ? I will 
grant you whatever you ask, in reason.” 

Then said Gamelyn, “ Brother, if we are to live 
in peace, you must give me the property which 
my father left me.” 

“You shall have it, Gamelyn, I swear! All 
that your father left you, and more too. But first 
give me time to sow your land and build your 
houses again, so that it will be as good as ever.” 


Gamelyn 207 

Thus spoke the false brother, meaning in his 
heart to go on cheating Gamelyn ; and they 
clasped hands and were at peace again. Alas, 
for young Gamelyn ! He still believed every- 
thing that was told him, and could not tell a 
traitor ! 

Now listen to me, good sirs, and I will tell you 
what next happened to the young Gamelyn. 
Not long thereafter a wrestling bout was cried 
through the countryside, and for prizes a ram 
and a ring were offered. Gamelyn made up his 
mind to go to the bout and try his strength with 
the best of them. So he said to his brother : 

“ Lend me a horse, I pray you, for I must 
need go on an errand to-night.” 

“ Go and choose the best steed in my stable,” 
replied his brother ; “ and tell me where you are 
going.” 

“ Not far away from here is to be a 
wrestling bout,” answered Gamelyn ; “ and they 
have set up a ram and a ring for prizes. Now it 
would be quite a feather in all our caps, brother, 
if I might bring home both these prizes.” 

His brother made no objection, and a horse 
was saddled without delay. And forth to the 
wrestling rode the youth Gamelyn. His brother 
locked the gate after him, and wished in his heart 


2o8 


Stories From Chaucer 


that the boy might break his neck and never 
come that way again. 

As soon as Gamelyn had come to the place 
for the wrestling, he dismounted from his steed 
upon the grass ; and there he met a squire 
who was wringing his hands and wailing bit- 
terly. 

“ Good man, why are you making this outcry ? ” 
asked Gamelyn. 

Alas ! ” groaned the squire, “ that ever I was 
born ! I had two stalwart sons and I have just 
lost them. A champion in this place hath slain 
them both. Poor as I am I would give ten 
pounds and more if I could find a man to make 
him suffer ! ” 

“ Say you so ? ” quoth Gamelyn. Then Fm 
your man; Hold my horse while my servant 
takes off my boots, and keep an eye on my 
things while I go and see what luck I may have 
with this famous wrestler.” 

“ It shall be done ! ” said the squire. “ I will 
look after your horse and clothes myself, so give 
yourself no concern over that matter.” 

Barefooted and stripped for battle Gamelyn 
came into the lists, and at once the whisper ran 
about that another wrestler had been found to 
fight the champion. And when the people saw 


209 


Gamelyn 

how young he was they were amazed at his 
hardihood ; for the champion was a doughty man 
famous through all the countryside. 

Up started the big fellow when he saw Game- 
lyn enter, and began to scoff at him. 

“ Who is your father ? ” he asked. “ He would 
better keep you at home till you grow up. In 
sooth you are a great fool to come here ! ” 

But Gamelyn answered the champion coolly : 
“ You knew my father well enough while he was 
alive. He was Sir John Boundys, and I am his 
son Gamelyn.'’ 

“ I knew your father, fellow,” retorted the 
champion, “ and as for yourself I knew you too, 
when you were younger ; but I never knew any 
good of you ! ” 

“ Nor will you know any better of me now, for 
I am older and stronger,” replied Gamelyn. 

“ Ha, come on then and welcome ! ” cried the 
fellow in a heat ; “ but I warn you it shall go hard 
with you if ever you get into my clutches ! ” 

It was late in the evening when Gamelyn had 
reached the lists, and now the moon shone while 
he and the champion grasped each other in a 
mighty struggle. At first Gamelyn stood still 
and bade the other do his best — which he did 
with great turnings and twistings in the effort to 


210 


Stories From Chaucer 


throw the youth. But Gamelyn stood firm as a 
rock. Then he said : 

“ You have tried many tricks to throw me. 
Now let’s see how you like some of mine.” 

And forthwith he showed him only one of 
many little twists that he knew. And behold ! 
the erstwhile champion went sprawling on the 
ground with three ribs broken. Those who stood 
round about heard the bones crack. 

Then said Gamelyn, “ Shall it count for a throw 
or not?” 

“ Odds boddikins ! ” groaned the other, 
“ whether it does or not. I’m sorry for the man 
who tackles you ! ” 

“Now may Heaven bless you, Gamelyn!” 
cried the squire in his turn. “ And as for you^ my 
fine fellow on the ground, you found thatthis young 
man could teach you a thing or two after all ! ” 

“ He is more active, master,” said the wrestler 
sullenly but honestly. “ Never before in my life 
was I handled so sorely.” 

Then Gamelyn stepped once more into the ring 
and said : “ If there be any other wrestler who 

would like to try a bout with me this night, I am 
ready for him.” 

But no man cared to answer his challenge. 
So the two masters of the tourney came forward 


u 


Gamelyn 211 

and bade him put his clothes on again, as the fair 
was over. 

“ But I have not sold half my wares yet ! ” said 
Gamelyn. 

“ He would be a fool who would buy more,’* 
replied the former champion. “ You sell too 
dear ! ” 

Then said the squire who was thinking of his 
two sons, “ You have bought them cheaply 
enough, at any rate.” 

The judges of the fair then brought Gamelyn 
the ram and the ring, and announced that he was 
the best wrestler that had ever come there. 

So Gamelyn took his prizes, and rode home the 
next morning with joy in his heart. But his 
brother saw him coming, with a great crowd of 
followers, and he bade the porter lock the gate in 
their faces. When Gamelyn came up and found 
it was bolted, he said, 

Porter, undo the gate, for many a good 
man’s son is waiting here on the outside.” 

But the porter answered that neither he nor his 
friends should step a foot inside. He thought 
the gate was fastened securely. 

“We will see about that,” quoth Gamelyn ; 
and he gave the gate a kick with his foot so that 
the bolt was broken. 


212 


Stories From Chaucer 


The porter ran away as fast as he could, while 
Gamelyn opened the gate wide and let all his 
friends come in. There was not a servant who 
dared oppose his will. 

For a whole week they feasted and made 
merry, while John the eldest brother was hid 
away in a little turret, not daring to say a word. 
On the morning of the eighth day the guests took 
their leave. Then John came to Gamelyn and 
said : “ Who made you so bold as to waste my 
food and drink in this manner ? ” 

“ Brother, be not angry with me,” said Game- 
lyn, “ for this is the first I have spent out of my 
property for sixteen years.” 

Then said the false knight : “ Listen, brother 
Gamelyn. I have no son of my own, so I will 
make you my heir, I swear it.” 

“ By my faith,” answered Gamelyn, “ if you 
mean what you say, I am content.” 

“ Now, Gamelyn,” continued his brother in a 
soft voice, when I saw you rioting here of late, 
I swore an oath that I should chastise you for it. 
Come, let me bind you hand and foot for a brief 
season, so that I may not break my oath.” 

Agreed,” said Gamelyn. “You shall not be 
forsworn on my account.” 

So they bound Gamelyn hand and foot, and 


Gamelyn 213 

John sent for strong fetters to make the bonds 
fast. They tied him to a stout post in the hall, 
and John told everybody who came in that 
Gamelyn was mad. Neither would they give 
him meat nor drink by day or night. 

Brother, I see you have dealt falsely with 
me,” said Gamelyn. “ If I had known all your 
purpose, I would have given you some hard 
knocks before I had been bound.” 

For two days and nights he stood there bound, 
suffering from hunger and thirst. Then he said 
to the old steward who chanced to come near 
him : 

“ Adam, methinks I have fasted long enough. 
I beseech you, for the love my father had for 
you, to release me from these bonds ; and I will 
share my land with you.” 

I have served your brother these sixteen 
years — ever since your father’s death,” answered 
the old man ; ** and if I let you go free, he would 
call me a traitor.” 

Adam,” said Gamelyn, no matter how true 
you are to him, he will one day be false to you. 
Now therefore deal justly by me, I pray you, and 
you shall never suffer for it.” 

“ You speak wisely,” said the steward. “ I 
will see what I can do for you.” 


214 


Stories From Chaucer 


So when Sir John was gone to bed, Adam took 
the keys and unlocked the fetters which bound 
Gamelyn’s hands and feet. Then he led him into 
a private room and set forth food and drink for 
him ; and you may be sure Gamely n did full jus- 
tice to them. 

Gamelyn thanked the old steward heartily and 
promised never to forget him. 

“ Now what is the best plan, Adam ? ” said he. 

Shall I go to my brother and take my revenge 
on him ? " 

“ No,” replied Adam; I can tell you a plan 
that is worth two of that. We are planning to 
give a feast on the coming Sunday, to which 
many an abbot and friar is invited. Now you 
shall stand up against the post as though you 
were still bound fast, and I shall see that the 
chains are unlocked so that you can throw them 
off at any time. When the guests have eaten 
their dinner and washed their hands, you must 
beseech them to loosen your bonds and give you 
some food. If any of them do so — well and 
good. You will be free and I shall not be to 
blame. But if they all say < no ’ to your re- 
quest, you shall have a stout cudgel near at 
hand, and I will have another. Then — we shall 
see ! ” 


215 


Gamelyn 

Gamelyn was delighted with this idea. 

“ Good ! ” he cried. “ But how shall I know 
when to begin ? ” 

“ O ril give you the wink,” said Adam chuck- 
ling. 

When the next Sunday was come, the guests 
all presented themselves at the feast; for what 
churchman would forego a good dinner ? As 
they entered the door they cast their eyes upon 
young Gamelyn standing tied against the post. 
Sir John answered all their questions and looks 
by telling many shameful tales of his younger 
brother, so that the guests shrugged their 
shoulders and took their seats without a word of 
pity for him. 

After two or three courses had been served, 
Gamelyn asked in a pleading voice : “ Will ye 

not give me something to eat ? ” 

Pay no heed to him. He is mad,” said his 
false brother. 

Gamelyn bethought himself of Adam’s advice 
and stood still, answering never a word. But 
presently he spoke again to the great lords who 
sat in the hall. 

“ Lords,” quoth he, “ for the sake of Christ 
whom ye preach, help to bring poor Gamelyn 
out of prison ! ” 


2i6 


Stories From Chaucer 


Then said a fat abbot : “He shall have 
Christ’s curse instead!” And another added: 
“ Yea, if you were my brother, I should punish 
you soundly.” 

“ Would you take a good stout cudgel to 
me ? ” asked Gamelyn in a pathetic voice. 

“Yea, that I would!” said he; and another 
guest and still another echoed, “ I should warm 
your bones ! ” 

Old Adam the steward was folding up a table- 
cloth in the pantry, and heard it all. He 
brought the cloth in at the door, with two good 
staves hid under it, and when he came near 
Gamelyn he looked at him and winked. Game- 
lyn gave a twist and the fetters fell off. He 
seized one staff and Adam took the other — then 
things began to happen. 

“ So you would take a stout cudgel to a help- 
less boy, would you ? Take that ! ” he cried. 

And whack ! whack ! “Ough! Murder! Help! 
Fire ! ” whack ! whack ! resounded through the 
hall. Priest and abbot, lord and prior, got their 
jackets dusted soundly that day, I warrant you ! 

“ Do not shed any holy blood, Gamelyn ! ” 
called out Adam who blocked the door so that 
none could escape ; “ but remember what they 
said about warming your bones !” 





t > 


"PAY NO HEED TO HIM. HE IS MAD 






217 


Gamelyn 

** Aye, that I will ! ” replied Gamelyn with a 
grim smile ; and laid about him harder than ever. 
Not one of the guests escaped a beating, or could 
make any resistance to him. 

They had come riding in jolly fashion, with 
their servants behind them. But they went away 
that day in carts and wagons groaning to high 
heaven. 

“ Alas, Sir Abbot ! " said a gray friar, “ why 
did we come out to-day? We would better have 
stayed at home to bread and water, than get our 
meat so well basted ! ” 

While Gamelyn was dressing down the monks, 
his brother cut but a sorry figure as he tried to 
rally the servants to his aid. Finally Gamelyn 
came up with him and sent him sprawling with 
one blow from the staff. When John recovered 
his wits, he found himself tied to the post just like 
he had tied Gamelyn. 

“ Sit there, brother," said Gamelyn, “ and cool 
your blood, as I did mine." 

When he and Adam had finished their house- 
cleaning they called for water to wash themselves, 
and then sat down to the best that was in the 
house. The servants brought them everything 
they asked for — some through fear, and others 
willingly enough. 


2i8 Stories From Chaucer 

Thus they feasted and had a royal time of it — 
but not for long. The sheriff lived only a little 
way off, and you may be sure the churchmen lost 
no time in telling him how Gamelyn had dis- 
turbed the King’s peace. So the sheriff called 
for deputies, and twenty-four young men re- 
sponded and swore to take Adam and Gamelyn 
dead or alive. The sheriff sent them on the 
errand without delay, and they came to the gate 
while the two victors were still at their feast. 

“ Open, in the King's name ! ” the deputies 
bawled, knocking the while. 

But the porter had seen them first, and for love 
of Gamelyn he held parley with them. 

** What do you want ? ” he asked. 

Undo the gate ! ” 

“ Not until you have told your business.” 

Then tell Gamelyn and Adam, if they are 
still within, that we would speak two or three 
words with them.” 

Then wait where you are,” retorted the 
porter, “ until I learn Gamelyn’s will.” 

Then he went within and warned Gamelyn 
that the sheriff’s men had come to arrest him. 

Hold the gate shut awhile longer, porter,” 
answered Gamelyn coolly, “ and you shall see 
some rare sport.” 


219 


Gamelyn 

The porter went back to parley with them ; 
and' Gamelyn and Adam went cautiously out the 
postern gate, taking two good cart poles as they 
went. Suddenly they came up in the rear of the 
four-and-twenty young men who stood talking to 
the porter, and with a shout the two began to 
belabor the backs nearest them. The attack was 
so sudden that the deputies thought a party of 
Gamelyn’s friends had come, so they scattered in 
every direction without striking a blow. 

Adam and Gamelyn laughed till their sides 
ached. 

What’s your haste, good fellows ? ” called 
Adam. “ You might at least have a drink of 
wine before you go ! ” 

“ Not a bit of it ! ” replied one who had been 
bowled over at the first onslaught, “ your wine 
addles the brain too much ! ” 

After a while Gamelyn looked and saw the 
sheriff himself coming with a large reinforce- 
ment. 

“ What's to be done now, Adam ? ” he said. 

Here comes the sheriff hard on our heels.” 

“ Well if you take my advice,” said Adam, ** I 
think we would better not tarry here any longer 
lest we get into trouble. I suggest that we 
go to the forest. We would be more secure 


220 Stories From Chaucer 

there and also have more liberty than in any 
town.” 

So Gamelyn reached out and grasped Adam 
by the hand and together they set out for the 
good greenwood. 

When the sheriff came to the house he found 
the nest but the birds had flown. He alighted 
from his horse and went into the hall, and there 
he found Sir John fastened tight to the post. He 
untied him quickly and rubbed his back, but Sir 
John’s feelings remained too sore for healing. 

Meanwhile Adam and Gamelyn were walking 
in the forest, and the old man began to grow 
weary. 

“Now see what a fine thing it is to be a 
steward,” he said. “ I would rather be in a warm 
hall with my keys dangling at my belt than walk- 
ing in a wild wood tearing my clothes.” 

“ Do not lose heart, good Adam,” replied 
Gamelyn, “ many a good man’s son has got into 
trouble ere this, and got out again.” 

As they stood talking, in some doubt about 
what next to do, they heard the voices and 
laughter of men near by ; and Gamelyn peeping 
through the undergrowth saw seven score young 
men gayly clad sitting in a circle at meat. 

“ Adam,” he said, “ now are we no longer in 


221 


Gamelyn 

doubt. I have caught sight of meat and drink, 
and that will suit us both, 1 think.” 

Adam looked in his turn, and just then the 
chief of the outlaws — for such they were — 
glanced up and saw them. 

“ Here are two well-appearing strangers,” he 
said to his men. “ Go and fetch them to the 
feast so that we may have a look at them.” 

Up started seven of them and made for Gam- 
elyn and Adam, and when they were come nigh 
they shouted, “ Yield up your weapons, sirs, and 
submit yourselves to us ! ” 

“ Sorrow seize me if I do ! ” retorted Gamelyn. 
“ Go get five more fellows and then there will be 
twelve of you.” 

He meant by this speech that they would re- 
sist a band of less than twelve. The outlaws 
liked his spirit so well that they answered mildly : 
“ Come before our chief and have something to 
eat, and tell him how you came into the green- 
wood. For we be outlaws and are masters of 
this domain.” 

So Gamelyn and Adam went with them will- 
ingly enough, and told all their adventures ; 
and the chief liked Gamelyn’s tale so well 
that he made him captain under him of all the 
band. 


222 


Stories From Chaucer 


They liked the merry, free life right well, and 
even Adam speedily forgot his belt of keys. 

After they had been some three weeks in the 
greenwood, the chief of the outlaws made his 
peace with the King and received full pardon. 
Then the others chose Gamelyn to be chief in 
his stead. 

Meanwhile Sir John had been made sheriff; 
and for hatred of his brother he hunted him high 
and low, and proclaimed him a “ wolf’s head,” 
for that was a name given to outlaws upon whose 
head a price was set. 

The servants were so sorry for this, that they 
sought Gamelyn through all the forest to tell 
him how the wind went ; how that his estate was 
ruined and his friends brought to grief. When 
they had found him they knelt down on their 
knees and threw back their hoods so that he 
might see who they were ; and they told him all 
that had befallen, and that he was a wolf’s 
head.” 

Alas ! ” said Gamelyn, “ that ever I showed 
mercy unto him. This is how he rewards me 
for not breaking his back ! I will go to the next 
session of court and denounce him openly for a 
thief and a traitor.” 

His friends and servants begged him not to 


. Gamelyn 223 

do this, but he was headstrong and persisted in 
going. 

So when the next court was held, Gamelyn 
came boldly in and stood before them all. 

“ God be with you, lordings,” he said. “ But 
as for you, lame-backed sheriff, may evil go with 
you ! Why have you put such shame and vil- 
lainy upon me, and proclaimed me a ‘ wolf's 
head ’ ? ” 

Seize him ! ” called the false knight. And 
he would not let Gamelyn speak in his defense, 
but had him chained and cast into a prison cell. 
And thus were evil days descended again upon 
Gamelyn through his wicked brother. 

Now Gamely n’s other brother. Sir Ote, was as 
good a man as Sir John was bad. He had been 
living at a distance and did not know how things 
were faring. But anon a messenger was sent 
him who told him of Gamelyn’s trouble. 

Sir Ote was deeply sorrowful to hear this, and 
he lost no time in saddling a horse and riding 
over to the sheriff’s house. 

“John,” said Sir Ote, “we are three brothers, 
the last of our family, and now you have im- 
prisoned the best one of us. How could you 
treat a brother so ? ” 

“ Spare your words. Sir Ote,” said the sheriff. 


224 Stories From Chaucer 

** Gamelyn is safe enough in the King’s prison, 
and there he shall stay until the judge comes to 
try him.” 

** No, that will not do,” said Sir Ote. “ I will 
go his bail until the next sitting of court, when I 
promise that he shall be present for trial.” 

Very well, brother,” said the sheriff grimly. 
“ But I warrant you if he is not present when the 
time comes, you shall be tried and sentenced in 
his stead.” 

“ I grant it,” replied Sir Ote. ** Give him into 
my keeping.” 

So Gamelyn was delivered over to Sir Ote his 
brother, and spent that night with him. 

In the morning he said, “ Brother Ote, I must 
leave you for a time, to look after my young 
men in the forest and keep them from getting 
into strife.” 

“ Well you know that I am responsible for 
you,” said Ote ; “ and if you are not present for 
trial, the judgment falls upon my head.” 

Never fear, brother,” replied Gamelyn, for 
I promise faithfully to return when the judge is 
ready for me.” 

“ God keep us both from blame, Gamelyn,” 
said the good Sir Ote. 

And so they parted in mutual affection. 


Gamelyn 225 

Gamelyn rode forth into the greenwood and 
found his men right glad to see him. They told 
him all the adventures they had found in his 
absence, while he told about his imprisonment 
and that he was only out on bond. 

For a short time they spent a merry life again 
in the forest, killing the King’s deer, and occa- 
sionally lightening the purse of a fat abbot. But 
to the poor people they were always kind. 

Meanwhile the sheriff was laying wicked plots 
to hang his brother Gamelyn ; and to this end he 
went all around seeking for twelve jurymen who 
would promise secretly to convict him ; likewise 
a false judge who would do his bidding. 

On a day as Gamelyn roamed the greenwood, 
he began to muse over his troubles, and it came 
to his memory that the time for the trial must 
be near at hand, though he had heard no sum- 
mons about it. So he said to his men : 

Get yourselves ready quickly. For when 
the judge takes his seat we must be there ; else 
my brother Ote would be sent to prison in my 
stead.” 

“ Only say the word and it shall be done,” an- 
swered the young men. 

But even while Gamelyn and his band were 
coming to the court, the sheriff was busy hurry- 


226 Stories From Chaucer 

ing the trial so that he might get both his broth- 
ers into trouble. As soon as Gamelyn came in 
sight of the town he saw that the court was 
in session. So he halted his band and asked 
Adam to go on ahead and learn how things 
stood. 

Adam went into the court-room and looked 
all about, and he saw many stout lords and 
churchmen. And there chained against the wall 
stood poor Sir Ote. 

When Adam came back and told these things, 
and how that a jury had been bribed to hang the 
good Knight, Gamelyn’s wrath boiled over. 

Young men,” he said, calling all his outlaws 
around him ; ** ye hear how they have treated 
the good Sir Ote — bound him and fettered him 
like a common thief! Now stand by me in this, 
and if God give us grace, it shall go hard with 
the rascals who have brought him to this 
shame I ” 

“ Yea, Gamelyn,” quoth Adam hotly, “ let us 
hang every man in the court-room.” 

** No, Adam,” replied Gamelyn, “ we must not 
do so. But we will punish all the guilty ones. 
Now I will go into the court and speak witlMhe 
judge. And if he will not listen, I will be judge 
myself this day, and will see that none of the 


Gamelyn 227 

guilty ones escape. Come with me, Adam, and 
be my clerk ; while the rest of you guard the 
door.” 

His men applauded his words with a shout. 

« We will stand by you through thick and 
thin ! ” they said. 

And I by you,” replied Gamelyn. 

So Adam and Gamelyn went on ahead, and 
Gamelyn walked boldly into the court-room. 
The first thing he did was to go up to Sir Ote 
and strike off* his fetters. 

“ You were almost too late, Gamelyn,” said 
Sir Ote ; “ for the sentence has been passed that 
I shall hang.” 

“ Brother, be of good cheer,” said Gamelyn. 
“ Some one may be hanged to-day, but it will 
not be either you or me.” 

Meanwhile the judge had found his voice, 

“ What do you mean,” he roared, “ by laying 
your hands upon the prisoner ? ” 

“ What do you mean,” retorted Gamelyn, 
by sentencing an innocent man and without 
giving due notice of trial ? ” 

“ Arrest him ! Do not let him escape ! ” 
shduted the sheriff red in the face. 

There shall no one escape, never fear ! ” re- 
plied Gamelyn. Now, Sir Judge, are you 


228 


Stories From Chaucer 


ready to give an honest trial before an honest 
jury?” 

“ You shall both be hanged this day!” shouted 
the judge. 

“ So be it, then,” replied Gamelyn. “ You 
have sentenced yourselves.” 

He blew a silver whistle which hung round his 
neck, and at once the court-room was filled with 
yeomen clad in green. 

“ Treason 1 ” bawled judge and sheriff. 

But Gamelyn laid hands upon the judge and 
with one heave sent him spinning over the bar 
and into the prisoner’s box. The others treated 
the sheriff likewise, and no man in the court- 
room durst say a word. 

Then with Sir Ote by his side and Adam at 
the clerk’s table, they began a new trial and 
speedily sentenced both judge and sheriff to be 
hanged. And Gamelyn inquired also for all 
those who had borne false witness against his 
brother; and he tried the false jury who had 
convicted him. The judge tried to escape by 
shifting all the blame on the sheriff, while as for 
Sir John he knelt abjectly before the bar and 
whined for mercy. 

“ Remember, you are my brother,” he said to 
Gamelyn. 


Gamelyn 229 

“ ’Tis too late for that sort of speech now,” 
answered Gamelyn. “ Remember how you dealt 
by both your brothers, who are brothers no 
longer. I should fare even worse, if I were in 
your stead.” 

So the judge and the sheriff were taken out 
and hanged without delay. 

Then Sir Ote and Gamelyn went straight to 
the King and told all that had happened ; and 
more than one good man vouched for it. And 
the King granted them his pardon, and was so 
pleased with their appearance that he made Sir 
Ote his judge, and appointed Gamelyn head- 
keeper of all his free forest. The King also for- 
gave his band of outlaws and gave them good 
positions, not forgetting old Adam the steward. 

Thus Gamelyn got his land and his stock back 
again ; and after Sir Ote died he fell heir to that 
estate also and thus became Sir Gamelyn with all 
the lands which had once belonged to his father. 
And he took him a wife and lived in great honor 
all the rest of his life. 


Here is ended the Tale of Gamelyn. 













Epilogue 

In Which the Gentle Reader is at a 
Loss to Know Who Won the Prize 
Dinner at the Inn. 



The End of the Pilgrimage 

A nd now we must bid farewell and God- 
speed to the genial company of Canter- 
bury Pilgrims. Other tales were doubt- 
less told by each member of the company, for 
some of these have been written or begun, by 
Chaucer, and others have been inserted by other 
hands to fill up the gaps. But Chaucer himself 
did not live to tell the whole of the journey — and 
people old and young have been sorry for this fact 
ever since. 

We can only imagine the rest of the adven- 
tures : That the Pilgrims rode pleasantly and 
without mishap to the shrine, paid their devotion, 
rested at some hospitable inn, and then returned 
on their former way, telling still more of their 
delightful tales. 

But what of the final dinner at the Tabard Inn ? 
Who won it at the expense of the others, for tell- 
ing the best story of all ? We can see in our 
mind’s eye the jovial Host standing at one end 
of the long table, filling the bumper and bidding 
every guest rise and pledge a toast to the 

233 


234 


Stories From Chaucer 


honored one seated at the head of the board. 
But who is that one ? Is it the doughty Knight, 
the rascally Pardoner, the learned Lawyer, the 
droll Wife of Bath, or perchance one of the 
others whom we have not seen open his mouth ? 

This you will have to guess for yourself, O 
gentle reader ! And for reward, if you guess 
correctly, you may travel back through the 
long years and into the land of dreams ; and 
there in the ancient tavern you may sit down 
with the other Pilgrims, listen to the merry jest 
go round, and perchance hear Dan Chaucer him- 
self tell of the journey’s end. 


























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